Circumstantial evidence
by Arienhod
Summary: Sherlock was willing to kill Magnussen to protect those he cares about but someone beat him to it. And then Moriarty announced his return. Are those two events connected?
1. Chapter 1: All for a case

**Welcome to Chapter 1 of the sequel to First dance!**

**Standard disclaimer stands: I don't own a thing.**

* * *

The persistent knocking on the front door of the house where John and Mary Watson lived for almost a year now woke up the retired army doctor. He rolled around in bed and groaned. He knew it, he knew the peace could not last long.

To be honest he was actually surprised it lasted this long. It's been almost a whole month now since the last case Sherlock accepted. It was a simple one and the consulting detective was disappointed when it turned out to be quite dull. Luckily his personal life was anything but. Just few days prior to the case Sherlock managed to patch things up with his favorite pathologist and they seemed quite content together. John was actually expecting a text to come to Baker Street and accidentally catch them snogging on the sofa in the sitting room. That is if Sherlock even knew how to do that. Hopefully Molly was a good teacher.

But the text he expected never came.

It seemed Sherlock Holmes decided to take a break of solving cases or something similar to that. Either that or he now dragged Molly along with him. John could easily see them discussing things on the crime scene and having dinner afterwards at Angelo's.

One would expect John Watson to be jealous at the thought of being replaced but it suited him just fine. He was still Sherlock's best friend and would always be willing to help the detective but it was nice to be able to enjoy some quiet time with his wife. His pregnant wife.

John grinned at that thought and wanted to snuggle in closer to Mary when the knocking started again.

"Go and let your friend in before he knocks a hole in our front door." Mary muttered and pulled the cover up to her chin.

John sighed, got out of bed and pulled on his dressing gown, before opening the bedroom door, "He's your friend too." He muttered.

"He was your friend first." Mary responded and rolled over in the warm bed. Moving towards John's side of the bed she placed her head on his pillow and deeply inhaled his smell before sighing contently.

That content didn't last long. It was all over when John returned to the bedroom and said their neighbor, Mrs. Kate Whitney, needed their help. So Mary Watson left the comfort of the bed and joined her husband in the sitting room where the older woman waited for them.

"It's Isaac." She explained when Mary joined her on the sofa, "He didn't come home last night and this morning when I went to him room the bed was untouched. He never came home. I tried to call the police but they said I have to wait 24 hours before he can be reported as missing. They said he probably just ran away because that's teenagers do. What kind of person tells that to a worried mother?"

John and Mary glanced at each other. They agreed with the woman, you don't say things like that when someone asks for your help because their child is missing.

"You obviously need Sherlock Holmes' help." John said and Mrs. Whitney looked at him confused.

"Who's help? Is that like a search dog? Should I get something Isaac's so he can follow his trail? Because that may not be necessary, I believe I know where my son is but I can't go there. Not on my own."

Mary bit the inside of her cheek not to laugh. Sherlock was called a lot of things but never a search dog. It wasn't all that wrong of a description though. Give the consulting detective a trail and he will follow it until he finds out who committed a crime he's solving. She'll never tell that to his face though. She'll share it with Molly.

"No." John interrupted her trail of thoughts, "Sherlock is a detective."

"Doesn't matter." Mrs. Whitney said, "I just need someone to go and see if Isaac is where I think he is. It's an old abandoned house where junkies hang out. I can't go there myself."

Mary hugged the older woman who started to sniff and gave her husband a pointed look. John merely nodded, "I'm going to need the address."

Kate Whitney nodded and handed him a piece of paper she took from her pocket, "I knew those friends of his were no good when I first saw them. But my Isaac wouldn't listen."

"We'll get him back home, alright?" Mary was calming the woman while John rushed upstairs to change out of his pajamas, "Do you want to wait here till we-?"

"No, I'll wait home. I'll make some soup for Isaac." She answered, "Thank you."

Mary nodded quietly and watched the woman walk away and enter hew own house two doors down. Mary just turned around to enter the house again when John walked by her and towards the car. Instantly she took the key from the lock on the inside, shut the door, locked them, and followed her husband to the car.

"I'm coming with you." She said opening the passenger side door.

"You can't go, you're pregnant." John tried to reason with his wife but Mary was having none of it.

"Well then you can't go either, because I'm pregnant." She answered and grinned as her John sighed and sat in the car without saying another word. She knew she won.

* * *

John stopped on the large deserted parking lot of the house that now served as a drug den. He wasn't certain what it used to be before it was abandoned, a hotel perhaps, or maybe a nursing home. What ever it was it was quite large with big wooden front doors that seemed to resist the elements quite well.

As he walked towards the door he could feel the tire iron with every step he made. It was an impulsive decision, to take the metal rod along for protection, but it made him feel a bit safer. And according to Mary it was a tiny bit sexy. Hopefully he won't encounter someone who will give him too much trouble.

He banged at the large door with a closed fist and could hear the echo from inside but nothing else. No sound of footsteps or someone speaking. No one was coming to let him inside. Perhaps there was no one inside and Mrs. Whitney had the wrong address. But still he felt obligated to check.

The doors opened surprisingly easy and without much noise. John actually expected them to squeak loud enough to announce his arrival to anyone who is currently inside. Obviously they were used far often then one would expect from a building that supposed to be deserted.

The entrance hall was large with a spiral staircase on the left leading to the first floor. But before he went upstairs he wanted to check ground floor.

"Isaac?! Isaac Whitney?! Are you here?!" John called as he walked down the wide hallway that led directly from the main entrance to the back side of the house. But the rooms on the both sides were deserted, the doors either opened or completely missing from the hinges.

"Upstairs then." The retired army doctor muttered and returned to the entrance hall before slowly climbing the instable stairs.

Once on the first floor John walked down the short corridor before he entered the large open space. It seemed like the entire first floor was one big room with only several pillars supporting the ceiling from collapsing.

The smell reminded John of the time he spent in Afghanistan, the stench of unwashed bodies and disease. This was no place for anyone, let alone for a fifteen year old boy. He just hoped the kid was here and well, as well as he can be anyway, and that he is alive, so he can return him home to his mother.

"Isaac? I'm looking for Isaac Whitney." He spoke as he passed dozen lost souls lying motionless on the mattresses on the floor. He was thankful Mary agreed to stay in the car for this part. His pregnant wife should never see something like this.

"Isaac?" he asked noticing a youth sitting up, leaned on the wall behind him. The kid groaned in recognition of his name and tried to open his eyes.

John kneeled down on the filthy floor next to an equally filthy mattress and took the boy's face in his hands, "Can you hear me? Do you know who I am?"

"Doctor Watson? Where am I?" the kid mumbled a question.

"Somewhere you shouldn't be. Your mother is worried about you." John answered.

"So you came for me?" Isaac was looking a bit better with every second.

"Of course. Do you think I know a lot of people who come to places like these?"

John was helping the kid in his attempt to stand up when he sense a person behind him standing up as well, groaning a bit as he did, and approach them. He reached for the tire iron and was ready to take it out and defend both of them when a deep voice he knew all to well shocked him.

"Oh, hello, John. Here with the car, are you? I could use a ride as well." Sherlock spoke casually; completely unaware his best friend was close to a hissy fit that would match Mary's hormone fueled ones.

"You…" he mumbled under his breath and turned away towards the consulting detective and took Isaac by the elbow, "Let's go. Your transport is waiting."

"John?" Sherlock called after him still standing on the same spot.

John Watson somehow managed to stop himself from shouting and instead growled at him, "Come on!"

Mary was retying her dressing gown and just happened to glance up to see three men approaching the car. And then she did a double take when her brain registered there was one man too many. Isaac was walking in front and behind him John was arguing with Sherlock, of all people.

The consulting detective looked completely different than the way she was used seeing him. Gone was the nice suit and instead he had a tracksuit on, one that hung on his body. And was rather filthy as well.

She opened the door and got out of the car just as Isaac reached it.

"Hi, Mrs. Watson. Can I go inside?"

"Yeah, sure. Go ahead." She answered absently; she was too preoccupied with her husband and his best friend arguing.

"I'm not buying this nonsense Sherlock!" John was shouting, "If there really was a case you would have called me! Just admit it Sherlock, you started doing drugs again! You aren't really on a case!"

"Well I'm not now!" Sherlock turned towards John and jelled back, "You ruined everything! I was undercover! I didn't even use my own name!"

"Oh, no? Which name did you use? You're junkie name? Shezza perhaps?"

"Oh, don't be an idiot, John." Sherlock frowned and turned away towards the car, finally noticing Mary standing there, "Hello, Mary."

The blonde woman shook her head, "A case? No case if worth you starting to use drug again and hurt Molly in the process."

"I'm not hurting Molly. I'm clean." He protested but the Watson's obviously didn't believe him.

"You drive." John told Mary as he walked to the passenger's side, "I have a phone call to make."

"Who are you calling?" Sherlock asked as he took a seat in the backseat next to a rather confused looking kid.

"Molly." John told him before he turned towards Mary and explained, "Sherlock Holmes needs to pee in a jar."

They ignored a groan that came from behind them from the larger child in the backseat and drove straight to Saint Bartholomew's hospital. If there was one person that could and would make sure Sherlock returns on the right track, that was Molly Hooper. They were aware how much out of his comfort zone Sherlock went when he first admitted he had certain feelings for the lovely pathologist, first to himself, then to John and Mary, and then eventually to the woman in question.

They were together for a month now, since that nice evening when they managed to reenact the wedding reception for just the two of them, and it would be a shame if all that was destroyed just because Sherlock succumbed to the addiction again.

"Call Kate Whitney, while you're at it." Mary said handing John her phone, "Let her know we found Isaac and will bring him home shortly. Don't mention we're going to the hospital first, it will only upset her."

John nodded in agreement to his wife; the older woman shouldn't believe their little detour is because there is something wrong with her child when in fact they are going to Barts to deal with a much bigger child. One that obviously needs constant supervision.

Speaking of supervision, John had every intention to talk to Molly as to why she didn't paid more attention to the clear signs Sherlock was using again. He practically lived in her flat according to Mrs. Hudson. He only came to Baker Street for few hours each day and spend very few nights sleeping there, those were probably the nights when Molly was working the night shift.

* * *

John was leading the little group down the corridor towards the morgue, Mary and Isaac were trailing behind him, and Sherlock was stomping his feet few steps behind them. He was obviously trying to delay the unavoidable. Something the retired army doctor fully expected. But as long Sherlock didn't try and make a run for it he wasn't going to say anything.

"Oh, Molly. You're here, good." John spoke as he entered the morgue.

"Hello, John." Molly answered and then noticed the three other people that entered behind her friend. She right away walked to Mary, gave her a hug, and then smiled at the teenager that wiggled his fingers at her.

"I need you to perform a drug test." John was dead serious and Molly looked at the kid standing next to Mary in confusion. He was obviously under the influence of something, but the concluded John simply wanted to know what the teenager was using for some reason.

"He doesn't mean Isaac." Mary explained, noticing the look her friend sent the boy.

"Who then?" Molly asked, honestly confused.

John snorted, "Are you seriously going to stand there and claim to be ignorant of Sherlock using drugs again?"

"What?" Molly's eyes widened as she focused on Sherlock who instantly rolled his eyes.

"Stop attacking Molly, John. I'm not using any drugs."

"Yes, I know." John turned towards his friend and snarled, "It's for a case."

"It is for a case." Molly confirmed casually and John shook his head.

"Are you seriously going to cover for him? I just found him in a drug den!" John Watson was pissed and he was making it known, loudly.

"Just because I was in a drug den doesn't mean I was doing drugs." Sherlock pointed out before focusing on Molly, "Can I have a jar? I better go and get you a sample before John gets an aneurysm for nothing."

"Doing drugs isn't nothing, Sherlock!"

"Well, I'm not doing drugs right now. I haven't in years." Sherlock pointed out before adding, "Lestrade was very clear I get to pick between drugs and cases so I went to rehab and been clean since."

"I'll believe it when I see it." John said calmly and Sherlock sighed, took a jar Molly handed to him and went to the restroom.

* * *

The silence surrounded the five people in the laboratory as Molly finished the testing and moved so John Watson could double-check her findings. The man was currently standing leaned to the lab bench with his arms crossed over his chest and sending a death glare to a chart on the wall.

"I would never hurt Molly like that." Sherlock was first to break the silence, "She has given me a chance that I didn't deserve considering how I treated her in the past. I would never do something so stupid like start taking drugs again and ruin the best thing that happened to me in a long time."

"I know." John muttered.

"And yet you were willing to believe I went to a drug den and got high." Sherlock pointed out, "Even though Molly herself said I am currently on a case and was in that place for that reason, and for that reason only. She would never cover for me. If I was indeed doing drugs she would have contacted you and Mary, and Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade, and even Mycroft. I wouldn't put it pass her to go as far as to call my parents and inform them. And she would most definitely slap me for doing something so stupid. Repeatedly."

"So it's all for a case?" John asked, finally accepting his friend didn't suddenly become an idiot and went back to doing drugs, "What kind of case?"

"A big one. And I could use your help with it tonight." Sherlock's answer was vague.

"Will it be dangerous?" Mary asked concerned for her husband's safety.

"No." Sherlock answered shortly before adding, "I would never get John shot if that's what worries you."

"No, you would just get me drugged." John offered and Molly snickered.

"It was one time!" the consulting detective protested but his friend obviously disagreed.

"It was bloody well more then just one time. Or did you forget that time when you wanted to test-"

"Alright, I drugged you twice. Happy now?"

"No. I will be happy when I get a refund for that Wednesday I can't remember. I had a date that day."

"How do you know you had a date if you can't even remember that day?" Sherlock frowned and John merely rolled his eyes. There was no arguing with an overgrown child.

"So at what time should I expect John back home?" Mary asked.

Sherlock shrugged, "We won't be late. Just have to go to a place to get something."

"Oh good God, that can't end well." John muttered.

"Around nine. Shouldn't take longer." The consulting detective offered a time frame ignoring his friend's comment.

"And that will be it?" Molly suddenly asked, "After today the case is closed?"

"Yes." Sherlock answered shortly and watched his better half, in the lack of more appropriate words he was willing to use to describe what Molly was to him, gave a breath of relief. To be honest he felt the same way.

Some aspects of this case were rather tedious and he couldn't wait until they were out of his life, hopefully forever.


	2. Chapter 2: Spare girlfriend

**I wasn't expecting it would take this long to update but I came to a conclusion I hate writing chapters that follow an episode because I don't want to post a transcript but can't avoid using some lines that are needed. So basically this is the third version of the chapter.**

**Also, my room got a makeover and I'm still making minor adjustments a week after.**

* * *

John followed Sherlock out of Barts and into a cab that waited for them. Molly used her phone application to get one for them since Mary was driving Isaac back home to his worried mother in their car. Of course they all could have gone together but for some reason Sherlock insisted that only he and John go to Baker Street.

The Watson's shared a look but neither of them said a word and instead nodded in agreement. It saved time to just agree with the consulting detective.

The ride was silent for several minutes until John took out his cell phone and began to write a message.

"Who are you texting?" Sherlock asked suspiciously.

His suspicious was confirmed, when after several moments of silence, John answered, "Mycroft."

The detective groaned and leaned his head back at the headrest, "You are texting my brother. Why?"

"Because I informed him previously where I found you and thought he should know-"

"Thank you John." Sherlock was glaring at his friend, "You informed the most meddling person possible where I was this morning. How swell. I'm quite certain he's not having people in Baker Street digging through my things." The sarcasm was positively dripping.

"It's for your own good."

"I'm an adult. I don't need either you or Mycroft to stick your noses in my business. If anyone has the right to do that is Molly and she knows exactly what is going on and why I was where I was."

John frowned and looked out the window. The driver was waiting for the light to change back to green and the doctor hoped it would happen soon. The tension inside the car was almost unbearable.

He was partially at fault for that. He shouldn't have informed Mycroft Holmes his brother spent the night in the drug den before he got confirmation that Sherlock was indeed using again. But this whole case story was rather difficult to be believed in.

What kind of case does require for Sherlock, for anyone really, to stay with junkies? It made absolutely no sense.

He knew Sherlock would explain everything once they arrive and that was another reason why he wished the damn cabbie would drive faster.

And while John Watson was lost in his own thoughts Sherlock took advantage of the silence to go through his plan once more. All the players were in position and he had the schedule memorized. Only thing left to do was to buy a certain item and show up at a restaurant on time to catch his mark there before his appointment.

He couldn't help but recall Molly's reaction when he informed her of a certain detail in his plan. She looked disappointed in him and he almost decided to give up the case just for her. But they talked and came to a conclusion it had to happen; it was his best chance to get access to a certain highly protected office.

He knew it reminded her of the time he used her for access to the morgue and to body parts he needed for experiments. He would give her false compliments and smiles that would fade away from his face the moment she turned her back to him. Before it didn't bother him that he deceived her like that, before he was a different person.

It was during his short stay with Molly right after the fall that he realized she knew what he was doing all along. It never even crossed his mind until then that she could have seen through his mask long before that night in the lab when she took him by surprise by revealing she knew he was sad. By saying she didn't matter. Something started to change inside him that evening, something woke up. But he didn't understand that that was until he returned and saw here again.

She was just as he remembered. But she was someone else's. And then he made new mistakes and almost missed the possibly last chance.

It's been a month now since that day at her flat when he surprised her, when they shared their first dance. It wasn't the last one, though.

The cab stopped and Sherlock paid the driver before he and John exited the vehicle. He could see his friend observing him closely when he took out the money from his pocket and knew exactly what John thought. That he had that money on him in case he decided to buy drugs after all.

He was wrong, of course. Sherlock had money on him because he planned to buy flowers and have them delivered to Molly at Barts as a surprise.

* * *

"What are you doing here?" was the first think that came out of Sherlock's mouth when he opened the door and entered the foyer at Baker Street, "John said he informed you it was a false alarm."

"I merely wanted to see for myself." Mycroft answered observing his younger brother from head to toe before frowning. Sherlock sure did look like a junkie dressed in a dirty tracksuit and smelling almost like a dumpster.

"You've seen it, now go away!" Sherlock snapped at his older brother and stomped up the stairs towards his flat. Luckily it was empty, he already started to suspect Mycroft hired someone to snoop around and see if they could find some drugs. Maybe even Anderson and his fan club.

"I am worried about you Sherlock. It's for a case you say? What kind of case requires you to go to a drug den?" Mycroft asked and John leaned on the doorframe with his hands crossed over his chest waiting for the answer as well. He wanted to know the same thing.

"I was hired to return something from a certain individual that is using those items for blackmail." Sherlock answered.

John shook his head and moved to sit in his armchair, "Could you be more specific?"

"Charles Augustus Magnussen."

The mention of that name got Sherlock Mycroft's full attention. His older brother looked like he swallowed a lemon and it took him longer then usual to return the mask of indifference on his face. It was obvious he was disturbed by the name-dropping.

"Leave him alone Sherlock. No matter what kind of case it is it's not worth it." Mycroft said.

Usually Sherlock would ignore his brother and his warnings but the warning in Mycroft's voice intrigued him, "If I didn't know better I would think you are protecting him Mycroft."

"I'm not. I'm protecting you. If you go against Magnussen you will find yourself going against me."

"And that should worry me… because?" Sherlock asked, his voice showing he found the whole thing amusing.

"I am serious Sherlock. Magnussen has friends on high places." Mycroft wasn't giving up.

"No, he has information about people on high places. They are not his friends, they are his puppets. And one of them wants to cut the strings. And no one will stop me from helping to achieve that." Sherlock snapped back before marching to the door and holding them open for his brother, "I know I can't count on you. So it would be better if you leave. I don't want you to overhear anything and then report back to your master."

"He is not my master!"

"Could have fooled me."

Seeing the brothers standing nose to nose John thought now would be a good moment to intervene before things escalated further, "Alright. That's enough. Mycroft, I believe you should leave. He obviously won't listen."

"He never does." Mycroft commented, looking straight into his brother's eyes.

"I would have expected the British government not liking that one man has so much control over everyone." Sherlock commented casually before adding, "Unless that man _is _the British government."

"No one has that much power." Mycroft insisted fully knowing it was futile. His brother wasn't listening anymore. So he nodded his head and walked out of the flat and down the stairs.

Once only two of them remained in the flat Sherlock unzipped the top of his tracksuit and turned to John, "I'm going to take a shower, do make tea in the meantime."

John nodded and followed Sherlock to the kitchen. And while his friend kept walking down the narrow hallway and enter the bathroom John remained in the kitchen, filled the kettle with water and placed it on the stove.

He looked around the kitchen and noticed it was suspiciously clean, there wasn't a single experiment left anywhere on the work surface and even the microscope that he could have sworn was permanently glued to the kitchen table was missing from it's usual spot. And John honestly didn't know what to think about that.

If it was any other man's flat he would believe the clutter was gone because of a new girlfriend. But it was Sherlock's and Sherlock didn't do girlfriends. Yes, he had Molly and their relationship was closest to dating Sherlock was probably capable of but John honestly doubted his friend would remove his beloved microscope just to please her or something like that. It was Molly after all; she knew how much he liked that thing.

He made a mental note to ask the consulting detective about all this strange details. And about Molly too, he was certain Mary would like an update about the state of their… thing. The little preview this morning didn't give them much. And hopefully he will also receive a label for their… thing. It's been a month now since everything was fixed between the detective and the pathologist and both John and Mary wondered how things were going between them.

Unfortunately there was a radio silence between the Watsons and Sherlock and Molly for a month and that's enough time for things to progress without either him or Mary finding out about it. That needs to change.

At the sound of door opening John turned towards the bathroom and was just about to inform Sherlock he left the water in the shower on when he noticed it wasn't the bathroom door that opened and it wasn't Sherlock that just stepped in the kitchen.

"Hello, John. Wasn't really expecting you here." Janine said as she pulled down a bit the pale blue shirt she was wearing.

"I… uh… needed to talk to Sherlock about a case." John somehow managed to find his voice and answer.

Janine pointed towards the bathroom over her shoulder and casually asked, "So that's Sherlock in the shower? Wasn't sure if he would be back before I had to go to work, he was undercover for a case last night."

"Yeah, I know." John absently said as he tried to connect the dots as to what the hell was going on here.

"I'll just go and change now."

The retired army doctor nodded without a word and turned off the stove before the water even boiled. If Sherlock Holmes wanted tea he could make it himself, or have his other girlfriend make it for him.

When Sherlock walked out of the bathroom, freshly showered and dressed in one of his suits, John was standing in the sitting room and looking out the window. Instantly Sherlock noticed his stiff posture and wondered what happened. He got his answer when the door behind him opened again and Janine appeared.

"Morning Sherl." She instantly called and wrapped her hands around Sherlock's neck before kissing him. Much to John Watson's shock.

"Morning." Sherlock answered with a wide smile.

"Oh, John, how is Mary? I haven't heard from her since the wedding. I've been quite busy with work and then Sherl and I bumped to each other at a café three weeks ago and I had even less time."

"She's fine." John answered shortly.

"I'm glad. I was so fortunate to meet her when I first moved to London looking for a job. She was the best neighbor I ever had." Janine said before giggling, "The two of you just started seeing each other and she constantly talked about you."

"I was the same way, I assure you."

"Well, I will have to call her soon and make plans for lunch. Maybe have the two of you over, like a double date."

"She'll love that. I'm sure." John's answers were still short, he was completely baffled.

"Alright then." Janine turned around towards Sherlock and kissed him again, "Have fun with your case. Catch me a bad guy."

Sherlock only smiled at her and watched as she walked towards the door, her keys jiggling in her hand, the light catching on the deerstalker keychain she bought few days ago and instantly informed him of it.

Once Janine was out of sight Sherlock looked at his friend and sighed. The look John was giving him was expected.

"What about Molly?" John asked.

"What about her?" Sherlock asked back and sat in his armchair.

It took John's entire restrain not to strangle his friend, "As far as I know you and Molly fixed things between you a month ago. This morning you said yourself you would never hurt her by taking drugs again. So why in the world do you have Janine staying in Baker Street?"

"I'm afraid that will have to wait." Sherlock took a deep breath and then started to explain the details of his newest case, "I got a case few weeks ago regarding Charles Augustus Magnussen. The man may appear to merely be a newspaper owner but he is so much more. I have a reason to believe he keeps files in the basement rooms of his house, his isolated house, about every, even slightly, important individual. Those files are then used for blackmail. And there are certain letters I must retrieve for my client."

"Janine." Was all John said at Sherlock's monologue, "She is planning a double date Sherlock. What is going on?"

"Oh, for God's sake John, do pay attention!" Sherlock snapped, "I just told you one man knows secrets of most influential people and you are wondering about Janine!"

"Just wondering how your spare girlfriend fits into this whole story?"

A frown appeared on Sherlock's face, "Have you listened to a word I said?"

"You know what? No, I haven't!" John snapped back, "I don't know how close you and Molly got in the past month or if you are in a relationship or something akin to a relationship. But-"

Sherlock jumped out of the armchair, "So, this is what it's about? Molly?"

"Yes!" John shouted, "Molly, the pathologist at Barts that we are all convinced is your girlfriend."

"I told you years ago I don't do girlfriends. I suppose you weren't listening to me then either."

John growled and started to pace around the sitting room. It too was suspiciously clean, just like the kitchen. He intentionally ignored the consulting detective that watched him silently. This whole thing was giving him a headache, it made absolutely no sense.

The sound of doors opening and closing downstairs reminded John that Baker Street had another resident. He wondered for a moment if he should go downstairs and talk to Mrs. Hudson, maybe she knew what's going on. But that idea was soon discarded, he didn't want to bother the older woman who had a heart attack a month ago.

"I don't understand." He finally said after almost ten minutes of silence.

"Which part?" Sherlock asked calmly.

"All of it!" John snapped at him.

The consulting detective sighed, "I need Janine's help with the case. That's why she's here, that's the only reason she's here."

"So you entered a relationship with her because that's the only way she was willing to help you out with the case?" John was still confused where Molly and the… thing between them fit in all that but some things were slowly starting to make sense.

It actually took several moments before Sherlock slowly answered, "Yes?"

It didn't escape his friend that the answer was actually a question and he instantly got angry again, "Does she know she's helping you in a case? Sherlock?"

But Sherlock wasn't really listening; instead he left the flat and was going down the stairs, his Belstaff draped over his hand, "Can we continue this later? There is something I need to get for tonight. I'll send you an address and time, make sure you are there and that you are punctual."

John rushed down the stairs just as Sherlock exited the house and flagged a cab. He tried to stop the consulting detective but was too late. The black car was driving off and all John could do was huff in annoyance and storm back inside. He needed tea and some nice, normal company. Luckily Mrs. Hudson could provide both.


	3. Chapter 3: Clair de Lune

**I had every intention to update this chapter in less then a week after posting the previous one but I reached the point where I just wished the chapter would magically appear rather than write it.**

**So instead of writing this chapter I have: read several 20+ chapter stories, wrote 2 one-shot stories, painted the living room and the kitchen, refolded the clothes in my closet (it looked like a bomb exploded in it), organized a Star Trek marathon with my friends (we watched all 12 movies), and got a dog.**

* * *

Sherlock stopped in front of the glass doors of the restaurant and quickly glanced towards the CCTV camera mounted on the corner of the building opposite. He had no doubt Mycroft ordered his movements to be followed now that he knew who the subject of the investigation was.

He snorted at his brother's belief he would back down just because he told him to. It was like Mycroft didn't know him at all.

He opened the door and entered the restaurant. Instantly, a host greeted him. Quick deduction told him the man was in his fifties, happily married over twenty years, two kids but no grandkids, had two small dogs and a cat, and hated his job. The final deduction was made due to several small stains that proved he didn't care all that much about his own appearance and most likely hoped he would get fired.

Sherlock thanked the host once the man seated him at a table for two next to a window and looked outside. He was still in sight of the camera that had rotated and was focusing solemnly on him.

He made a mental note to inform Mycroft the tax payers don't pay so that he can stalk his own brother on a potential business meeting. Mycroft will without a doubt claim he did it for Sherlock's safety despite both of them knowing he was doing it because of Magnussen. Because that man knew something.

The waiter brought the menu before going to the kitchen to pick an order, leaving Sherlock enough time to pick something. He wasn't really keen on eating, he preferred not to while on a case, but because he needed to wait for Magnussen he also needed to order something and keep the pretense.

Also, he knew Molly would approve of him eating a little something since they both skipped dinner last night when she was called in to help out after a fatal traffic accident.

Screaming startled him and he instantly looked outside, thinking something terrible was going on, but instead only seeing a young boy being dragged away by his mother. It seemed he saw something he wanted and refuse to take a 'no' for an answer.

Turning away from the sight and focusing on the entrance he saw the newspaper magnate had entered while he was distracted. Instantly he scowled himself for it, he needed to be focused if he wanted to get information he required from Magnussen.

A small grin appeared on the older man's face as he spotted Sherlock sitting alone at the table. He waived his two bodyguards away and walked towards the table where the consulting detective was sitting; informing the host in the process he had a meeting and would require a table for four, but needed to greet an acquaintance first.

"Mr. Holmes, I would say it's a surprise to see you here but I have been expecting you." Magnussen said, taking a seat opposite of Sherlock, just as a waiter brought the bottle of wine to the table.

He poured the glass to Sherlock and was about the pour another one but Magnussen waived his hand at him, signaling him not to and to just leave.

"Then we don't have to go through the entire pretense." Sherlock commented as the waiter walked away, leaving them alone, "I believe you know why I'm here."

"A client?"

Sherlock nodded, "Yes, a client hired me to return something that is currently in your possession."

"Ah, Mrs. Smallwood." Magnussen grinned after leaning back in the chair, "Isn't she such a lovely woman? Bold, proud, meticulous. Smells rather well too, not sure if you noticed."

"I have." Sherlock responded, rather bored with the small talk, but aware he needs to keep Magnussen interested.

"Of course you have, after all you notice everything. Don't you? The great consulting detective." Magnussen leaned towards Sherlock and smiled maliciously, "So, tell me Mr. Holmes… does Miss Hooper smell as delicious too? Claire de la Lune is for younger women after all."

Sherlock instantly sat straighter, "What does doctor Hooper have to do with anything?"

"Oh, not much. She's meaningless to me, most boring person I ever encountered actually. Her only pressure points are you and kittens. But I also know she's one of your pressure points, along with few other people… and heroin. But I won't fall for that one, that information is useless to me. There are more important ones, ones that are worth more."

"Like the certain letters." Sherlock offered.

Magnussen smiled and reached to the inner pocket of his suit jacket. He didn't take the letters out completely, only enough for Sherlock to see they were indeed in his possession. But it was all Sherlock needed. He needed confirmation Magnussen had the letters with him in London and not hidden away in the underground vault in that glass palace of his.

"Tell your client I refused." Magnussen said before taking the wine glass that was in front of Sherlock and taking a sip of the red liquid before spitting it back out, "A waste of grapes. And a waste of my time. Goodbye, Mr. Holmes. Do not contact me ever again; you don't have what I want anyway."

"And what is that?" Sherlock asked as the older man was standing up from the table making him stop and look back at the consulting detective.

"Deduce it."

* * *

John was standing for almost ten minutes in front of a tall glass building when a cab stopped in front and Sherlock walked outside. Instantly he scowled. When he received the text message he instantly left his home and drove for almost half an hour to the place where Sherlock told him to wait and not to be late. But who was late in the end? The consulting detective who refuses to explain what this case is all about.

"Is there a reason why you told me to be punctual and then be late yourself?" he instantly asked as Sherlock walked past him towards the entrance. John of course followed.

"I had a sort of a meeting, and then had to acquire an item." Sherlock answered.

"And that's why you're late." John concluded.

Sherlock stopped in his track and waited for his friend to catch up before he faced John and corrected him, "I was not late. I merely told you to be here earlier because I wasn't sure how long I'll be at Barts."

"You were at Barts? You went to see Molly?" John's brain was working overtime, "Does it had anything to do with this morning?"

It took several seconds for Sherlock to realize what John meant and once he did a frown appeared on his face, "Don't be ridiculous, John."

"Once this bloody case is over we are going to it down and have a nice long chat about what in the world is going on in your life."

Sherlock frowned again and continued to walk; his friend's words were not something he wanted to hear. He was Sherlock Holmes; he didn't have long meaningful conversations with anyone.

As he approached the building the detective looked up towards the top floor and a small smile appeared, replacing the frown. According to the building plan the office took the entire South side and all but one window currently dark, meaning everyone were on schedule and the final stage of his plan could be set in motion.

And that one window was the entrance office where the personal assistant that made a rather big human error was currently still working.

Sherlock made one final glance towards John before entering the building, acting like he belonged there, to prevent anyone from stopping him and asking what he was doing there at that time of the evening.

"What's the plan?" John asked after catching up to Sherlock.

"We need to get to Magnussen's office, it's on the top floor and has its own elevator that can only be opened with an access card." Sherlock began to explain and was right away interrupted.

"A card which we don't have." John interjected.

Sherlock obviously wasn't worried because he didn't even bother to slow down. Instead he pulled the access card from his coat pocket, "I borrowed it earlier today from a rather slowwitted bodyguard that refused to move and let me pass. Of course I can't use it; he isn't supposed to be here right now, so I need to improvise."

John watched as his friend moved the card several times over his cell phone, "You are destroying the strip."

"I don't need the strip. I need the faulty access card so that Magnussen's personal assistant has to activate the inter-phone."

"What?" John was completely baffled by that plan, "Are you crazy?! How is that supposed to work? I doubt his assistant will simply let you in."

Sherlock looked at his friend and smiled, "You are forgetting something John. I always have a plan."

"And that plan usually consists of rather idiotic details. For instance, jumping of a building."

"That was one time."

"One time watching you die is more than enough for me Sherlock."

Sherlock didn't pull the access card through the slot, instead he turned towards his friend, "I don't have an intention of putting you through something like that ever again. That's why I made some precautions."

"Like what?" John asked, completely confused. As far as he knew Sherlock didn't do absolutely anything in the past month apart from faking a drug use and a relationship with...

John's eyes widened as he realized what Sherlock meant when he said it was all for a case.

As expected the scanner didn't recognized the card and inter-phone screen came to life. And Janine looked rather shocked at the sight of her boyfriend trying to get access to her workplace.

"_Sherl, what are you doing here?"_

"Let me up and I'll show you." Sherlock answered and John groaned. His friend was such an idiot sometimes.

"_I can't. I could get in a lot of trouble."_ Janine said with a smile, she was glad he wanted to come upstairs even though she wasn't allowed to let him up.

"Oh, come on. Are you really going to make me do it like this? Over a screen?" a wicked smile appeared on Sherlock's face and John couldn't help but feel worried.

"_Do what?"_ Janine giggled and then gasped and had to sit on the chair. On her computer screen was a video feed of Sherlock Holmes holding a little black box with an engagement ring inside.

John's mouth was wide open at that point. He couldn't believe Sherlock would do such a thing, but then again the consulting detective had previously proven to be willing to do just about anything to solve a case. Even drug his best friend with a powerful hallucinogen.

And let's not forget jumping of a building.

"Janine?" Sherlock asked innocently and then gave her a wide smile as the doors of the elevator opened.

John stepped in after Sherlock and couldn't help but observe the consulting detective carefully for any signs of insanity. After few moments he shook his head and decided to ignore his suspicion.

* * *

"So… you just got engaged to get into an office. Does Molly know about it?" he asked shortly before the doors opened so Sherlock didn't had the change to give him an answer.

The front offices were empty, with no soul in sight. Which was odd before Janine supposed to be there waiting for them. She supposed to be excited and giddy and hugging her fiancé and demand he places the ring on her finger. But she was suspiciously absent.

"Did she faint?" Sherlock asked mockingly, "Do women really do that? I'm going to have to ask Molly?"

John stopped and gaped at his friend for a moment before asking, "Are you going to ask her if she fainted when Tom proposed or you plan to propose to her as well to see if she'll faint?"

"Shhh…" Sherlock turned to John, "Not so loud. I don't want Janine to hear you mentioning me proposing to Molly."

John frowned not really understanding what was going on. Did he understand it correctly? Was Sherlock actually planning to propose to the pathologist? Was it that serious between them? It's only been a month since that night at Molly's flat that could, in a way, count as their first date.

He was about to ask all those questions when he noticed something that took his breath away. A pair of legs behind a desk.

"Sherlock…" he called his friend's name as he was rushing to the unconscious woman.

Janine was lying face-down on the floor. There were no signs of struggle or any visible wounds. He gently probed her head and found a bump at the back of her skull. She was hit from behind, never stood a chance against her attacker. Speaking of the attacker…

"He could still be in here." He whispered to Sherlock who was kneeling on the other side of his fake fiance.

Sherlock nodded and stood up, looking around for a moment before sniffing the air. It reminded John of a bloodhound looking for a trail. It's as good description of Sherlock as any other. Once he was on to something he didn't back down.

"Do you smell that? I know that perfume. I've smelled it before." Sherlock muttered and quickly moved away.

"Sherlock? Sherlock, where are you going? He could be armed!"

"If _she_ was then Janine would be dead." Sherlock answered before rushing up the circular stairway to the upper level of the office.

He was annoyed; she should have waited for him to get the letters instead of trying to get them herself. It was incredibly stupid and dangerous. If the police got the wind of it, which was likely considering she assaulted Magnussen's personal assistant, her career could be over. A pity really, he liked her and he didn't like many politicians, but there was something about Lady Elizabeth Smallwood that appealed to him. He deduced her within seconds of meeting her and she didn't have any annoying or ridiculous habits, appeared to be rather kind but had a backbone.

That was probably why Molly had agreed to go along with his plan, with deceiving Janine the way he had. She was present when Lady Smallwood came to see him at Baker Street and was appalled at Magnussen's blackmail.

Sherlock stopped at the side of opened door and peaked inside. He wasn't surprised to see a figure dressed in black standing in the middle of the office but to his surprise Charles Magnussen was present as well. That wasn't a pert of his plan, the man was supposed to be on a business dinner.

Briefly he wondered if her should remain hidden, have Lady Smallwood retrieve the letters herself, but when the faint reflection caught his attention he noticed the figure in front of him held a gun pointed at the kneeling man.

"This isn't the right way Lady Smallwood. You hired me to get the letter back, you should have trusted me to do so." He spoke, slowly entering the office.

Magnussen instantly looked at him, his face expression mixture of relief and confusion. He obviously believed he would live now that there is a witness in the room.

"Lady Smallwood?" he asked looking from Sherlock to the person in front of him, "This isn't Lady Smallwood."

Sherlock's head snapped back in surprise at the words and he could almost feel his heart skip a beat as the person in black in front of him turned around and he came face to face with no other but Mary Watson.

"What…" it was the first time in years that he couldn't find the right words.

"Is her here with you?" she asked, "Is John here with you? Answer me!"

"Yes." Sherlock answered briefly and Mary nodded silently, "Mary, what-"

"Stay back. Don't make another step forward or I will be forced to shoot you. I don't want to do that Sherlock." She warned him as he tried to approach her.

"Mary-" Sherlock decided to disregard the warning and stepped forward only to feel a sudden sharp stab in the abdomen that came after a muffled bang.

He looked down and saw a red stain coloring the crisp white shirt he was wearing, slowly spreading from the hole in the material. A gasp escaped him as he tried to comprehend what just happened. She shot him, she really shot him.

"I'm sorry Sherlock, so sorry. But I need to protect him; you of all people understand that." Mary spoke sadly before she suddenly turned around and hit Magnussen in the face with the base of the grip, rendering him unconscious. She looked at Sherlock and took out a burner phone from her pocket.

* * *

"_You need to fall down." Sherlock could hear Molly's voice somewhere on his right and he turned around to look at his pathologist, "You were shot Sherlock; you need to fall down now."_

"_Tell me how." He muttered to the one he could always count on._

"_On your back. The bullet is still in you; it will serve as a tampon and prevent a massive blood loss. It will give paramedics time to reach you, to save you. Fall down Sherlock."_

_He could feel his body losing battle against gravity and hit the floor, on his back like Molly instructed him. And the moment his back touched the hard wood floor a sharp pain that was previously localized now spread to his entire body._

"_Molly, I need you." Sherlock muttered closing his eyes._

"_Focus!" a loud cry followed by a slap made him gasp and open his eyes again. Right away he realized his surroundings changed, "You can't end up here again. I had you on my slab once before, I can't have you lying dead in front of me ever again Sherlock. But I can't help you this time; you need to do it yourself. You need to save yourself."_

"_You are already saving me Molly. Tell me what to do." He whispered, unable to talk louder from the immense pain that clutched his entire body._

"_You managed to delay blood loss. Next thing that could kill you is shock. You can't go into shock; your heart won't be able to handle it. Take deep breaths and calm down." Molly instructed him._

_Sherlock took a weak breath and tried to calm down but he could feel his heart beating forcefully in his chest. Adrenalin was rushing through his vanes, preventing him to do as Molly suggested. _

"_I can't. All I can think it Mary. She shot me!" Sherlock cried out and Molly took his hand in hers._

"_Yes, you can. I know you, you can do it." It was obvious she believed in him more then he believed in himself, "You managed to stay awake for days, eat bare minimum, and still solve the hardest cases. But you need to get your body to work with you again."_

"_I can't!"_

"_Yes, you can!" she yelled at him, "You just need to calm down."_

"_How?"_

"_You have a whole Mind palace at your disposal." Molly reminded him, "Are you telling me you don't have a single happy memory in there. Have you deleted them all? There must be something, something that would always relax you, remind you that you are cared for and that you always have someone willing to help you. Sherlock?"_

_Sherlock closed his eyes again and forced himself to take a deep breath, ignoring the numbing pain in his abdomen, and when he opened his eyes again he was no longer lying down on the cold sterile slab in Barts morgue. He was standing in the middle of Molly Hooper's sitting room._

"_Molly…" he called her name and right away he appeared on his side. She was always on his side, even when he tried to chase her away. When he was rude and condescending, when he insulted her in front of their friends and when he ignored her. Molly was the one who counted the most, the one who saved him, who made his survival possible._

_And he knew she would help him now too. She already had, her knowledge and calmness were the key. Her affection for him was the key._

"_What do you need?" she stepped closer._

"_You." Sherlock answered, and offered his hand, "Dance with me." _


	4. Chapter 4: Déjà vu

**Here is a short, completely unplanned, chapter for all those who are patiently waiting for an update.**

* * *

One phone call. That's all it took for Molly Hooper's easygoing days to end.

One phone call from John Watson and she found herself putting on clothes in a rush and running out the door, almost tripping over her own feet as she rushed down from the forth floor. She wasn't even sure if she locked her flat doors behind herself but at the moment that wasn't important.

She needed to get to the hospital and she needed to get there now.

The night air was biting at her face as she ran down the street towards Barts. It was a blessing that she managed to find a new flat so close to her work place because she wasn't sure she could handle a longer trip, not after the news she just received.

John was very vague and she didn't understand half of the things he said but what she did understand unnerved her. She couldn't help but think about the three post mortems she did in the last two days with the same cause of death and the thought of doing another one terrified her. Especially since it wouldn't be a stranger.

She saw John first, sitting on a plastic chair in the wide hallway. He was turned away from her, his right hand firmly holding Mary's left. The blonde woman said something too quiet for Molly to hear and John nodded silently causing his wife to lean towards him and place her head on his shoulder.

She sniffed and stepped forward, catching the retired army doctor's attention. He leaned towards Mary and whispered, "Molly's here."

His wife instantly stood up and the two women hugged tightly. Molly could feel Mary shaking slightly and tried her best to calm her down but it was no use. Instead she sat on next free plastic chair and waited for the doctor to come out and tell them the news.

John sat opposite of Molly and she leaned forward and took his hand in hers. It was shaking, something that Molly understood completely. After all he was present when it happened, when Sherlock got shot.

"How… John, how… what happened?" Molly was having a hard time finding the right words.

"We managed to get in the office, I don't know if you know all the details of Sherlock's plan so I'll leave it to him to explain exactly how we accomplished that when he wakes up. And he will wake up. He is too stubborn to die, he will outlive God just so he can have the last word." When John's explanation turned to rambling Molly squeezed his hand and he stopped talking, instead he focused on the pathologist.

"I know what he planed… I hated the idea but I understood there was no other way. He tried to figure out how to get inside differently but he simply… he said that was the only option." Molly said sadly. She hated that someone was used by Sherlock the same way he used her before the Fall, or perhaps even worse.

"Well someone found a different way inside; someone was in the office before we got to the top floor. That person knocked out Janine and was in Magnussen's personal office with him. Sherlock must have interrupted an assassination attempt and was shot because of that."

"So, Magnussen is dead?" Molly asked.

She agreed with Sherlock's description of the man, Charles Augustus Magnussen was a vile individual, and she didn't mind one bit if someone killed him. That thought first surprised her, she was never a violent person that wished someone's death, but the past several years had changed her drastically. She no longer harbored illusions that people do evil things because they have no other choice.

She learned that that hard way since starting to work at Barts. She now knew some people are just plain evil down to their bones.

John's voice brought her out of her thoughts, "No. The shooter didn't kill Magnussen after shooting Sherlock. Just knocked him out."  
"Why?" Molly frowned, "It makes no sense. Magnussen was the target, why knock him out after shooting someone else? Why not kill him as well?"

John opened his mouth to respond when Mary muttered, "Maybe the gun malfunctioned, I don't know how that is actually called."

"Malfunction is a good word." John commented, "Or misfire, or jam… It's a good theory. Only one that makes sense at the moment."

"Hopefully Sherlock will manage to describe who shoot him." Molly muttered.

"He will, he was shot in the abdomen, he saw the shooter. She stood right in front of him." John tried to comfort the distressed woman but only managed to make things worse.

"Abdomen? Where exactly? On the left side, right? How high? She? Are you telling me a woman shoot Sherlock?"

"Molly…" Mary took her hand and squeezed lightly, "Molly, you need to calm down. Don't start to hyperventilate on us now."

Molly nodded silently and took several long breaths before leaning her head back on the wall behind her and closing her eyes. She needed to calm down just like Mary said. Watsons observed her, but didn't say another word. Not until she spoke again.

"I was in the bathroom when you first called, taking a shower. Had a long day today. Did a postmortem on a man who killed himself, shot himself, after struggling with depression for over a year since his wife passed away. I thought that was the worst thing that happened to me today. I wish I was right."

Seconds later the doors on the end of the hallway opened and a doctor in scrubs walked through. He noticed them and approached.

"Family of Sherlock Holmes?" he asked.

It wasn't exactly true but John still answered, "Yes."

"Mr. Holmes' surgery was successful. We removed the bullet and stopped the bleeding without a single problem. He is being moved in ICU right now, once he's settled I will have a nurse let you in one by one."

"Thank you." John said and Molly nodded silently. She was grateful for the good news.

It was over half an hour later that the nurse walked out through the same doors as the doctor had and approached the small group hunched at the white plastic chairs.

"Mr. Holmes is awake but groggy due to morphine. The doctor said you can enter one by one." When all three of them nodded to show thy understand the nurse continued, "Now, I believe Mr. Holmes would like to see his girlfriend first since he said her name the moment he was awake." The nurse looked between the two women, "So...Which one of you is Mary?"


	5. Chapter 5: A woman scorned

**I had quite a problem updating this chapter. For some reason Chrome won't open fanfiction page for me so I did a lot of different things to change that. In the end I gave up and tried different browsers till I found one that opens it. **

* * *

Molly hated going to Barts on her days off. But she never learned how to tell Sherlock 'no' when he asked her to come because he needed something. And today was no different. Sort of.

She put on simple jeans and one of her colorful jumpers before leaving the flat and walking the five minutes to the hospital building. She wasn't in a rush like she was three days ago when he got shot. Today she was enjoying the warm weather and considered taking the longer route to Barts. That idea was discarded when Molly remembered Sherlock knew how much time it took to get from her flat to the hospital and she already texted him that she was on her way.

She didn't want him to think something happened along the way.

Sherlock may not be the panicky type but she wasn't risking him calling Greg just because she wasn't there on time. She knew the detective inspector wouldn't have a problem calling for backup if he thought she was in any danger, any with Sherlock's shooter still at large it was better not to take any chances with the overprotective men in her life.

She turned around the corner and came in sight of the hospital entrance when she remembered the awkwardness of three days ago when she entered the ICU room where Sherlock was staying for the time being.

He right away smiled at her, either because he was glad she was there or because of morphine, and extended his hand for her to hold. It was a rare thing for him, to ask for physical contact like that, so she did as he obviously wished, approached the bed and placed her much smaller hand in his before giving it a little squeeze.

She remembered telling him John insisted she went in first and he looked confused, like he couldn't understand why she wouldn't be the one to enter his room before all others. It made her feel special. And when she mentioned the first thing he said was Mary's name his face became a blank mask.

And it scared her.

She was able to read him when no one else, John included, could. But now she got nothing.

"The nurse." He mumbled, "The nurse looked like Mary. I thought it was her."

Molly nodded silently, not believing a word he said. She was familiar with most of the staff in the hospital; after all she worked there for over five years now, and knew for a fact not a single nurse in the Intensive Care Unit looked anything like Mary Watson.

But for everyone's sake she was willing to write it down to Sherlock being groggy from anesthesia and not seeing correctly what the woman in his room looked like. After all, even the mind of the world's only consulting detective can be tricked when under the influence of heavy narcotics. Legal narcotics.

The ping of the elevator doors opening startled Molly and she realized she was inside the hospital building and standing in front of now opened elevator and she had no idea how she got there. So she shook her head and entered.

She really needed to stop spacing out like that, one of this days she'll get hit by a car because of it.

There was no one at the nurse station, something that happens every time there is a new patient that needs to be settled in, so she just walked past and down the long hallway towards the room at the very end.

For someone who worked in a hospital for several years now Molly didn't like the place. The sterile white walls and the smell of disinfectant in the morgue was pretty much all she could stand. That was probably linked to the time her father spent in a hospital room before he died. No one in the morgue suffered, or was in any pain. They were all pass that. But upstairs, in all the different wards, there were living breathing people who were fighting battles they may not win and they knew it. She hated that. That feeling of helplessness. That's why she picked pathology.

Molly didn't bother to knock; Sherlock was waiting for her after all, so she opened the door and entered without announcing her arrival. That surprised a woman that was already inside, sitting at the side of Sherlock's bed. Instantly she recognized Janine Hawkins, Mary's maid of honor in purple, and tried her best not to frown. She had a pretty god idea what Janine was there.

"Hello." She greeted Janine casually and walked around the bed, opposite of her.

Janine greeted back before turning towards Sherlock and notice he was following all Molly's movements with his eyes. She just opened her mouth to speak when Molly took a book out of her large bag and placed it on the bedside table.

"Bees?" Sherlock asked.

"Yes." She responded with a smile, "Not a scientific book though. A mystery novel. A good one. This bloke kills people by…"

"Why are you here?" Janine interrupted her. She was honestly curious and a little ticked off that Sherlock instantly started to ignore her the moment the odd girl from the wedding walked in the room. Yes, she remembered her, even though she didn't know her name until Mary mentioned it days later. Of course she remembered the girl in yellow with a silly large bow on her head.

"Sherlock texted me this morning, he's bored here and wanted me to bring him something to read." Molly answered honestly.

"He already has some reading material." Janine pointed the newspaper spread all across the consulting detective's lap.

Sherlock looked at Molly and noticed a small smile on her face. He expected she would be angry, after all she was against certain details of his plan, but she looked amused. Instantly a smile appeared on his face as well. This was why he liked her, one never knew what to expect from Molly Hooper. She was simply full of surprises.

"I've seen those on my way here. Absurd, aren't they?"

"Pardon?" Janine asked, not expecting that kind of reaction.

"Seven times a night? I would have to check my medical journals but I'm pretty confident that that is impossible." Molly commented the first headline she noticed, "Especially with Sherlock's sexual history."

Janine was baffled at that statement and just watched in silence as Molly looked away and focused on the morphine pump. The pump that she tampered with the moment she entered the room. And now Molly was fixing the dosage to ensure Sherlock wasn't in any pain.

"The hat one has a good photo." Sherlock commented and Molly snorted, focusing on him again.

"And highly unlikely story considering how protective you are of the deerstalker. A surprise really since you initially hated it. John said you referred it as an 'ear hat' and constantly complained when a photo of you wearing it was printed. But that must have changed because I remember hearing you snap on Mrs. Hudson just last week when you couldn't find it and thought she hid it from you for some, to the rest of us, unknown reason."

"Yes, some headlines are a bit too much but one is right on the mark." Janine interrupted them by lifting the newspaper and showing Molly the 'shag-a-lot' written in bold black letters. They were ignoring her and she didn't like being ignored, not when she was angry at Sherlock and wanted an explanation. A good explanation. And an apology.

She was completely shocked when Molly leaned forward and muttered, "How would you know?"

A burst of laughter shortly followed by a groan of pain came from Sherlock, making both women turn towards him. While Janine frowned, Molly placed her hand on his forearm and shook her head. He was causing himself pain and she didn't like that.

"You have obviously been spending time with Mycroft." He groaned after the pain subsided.

"Don't you know?" Molly asked jokingly, "We became best friends while you were dead."

"What, you don't believe the article?" Janine asked Molly.

Molly turned her warm brown eyes towards her and shook her head. And to think she was jealous of Mary's maid of honor. Yes, Janine was beautiful and successful, as well as warm and popular among her friends; but Molly wouldn't trade her awkwardness and tiny group of devoted friends for anything.

"It was written by Kitty Riley. If you want people to take you seriously don't have her write anything, her articles are garbage by default. Her career was in shambles and now she's trying to salvage as much of it as she can."

"People still believe it." Janine pointed out and Molly knew it was the truth. People were always willing to believe such stories, despite not knowing all the facts.

"Those who believe it don't matter to me… to us." Molly took Sherlock's hand and he squeezed slightly, a motion that didn't escape his fake fiancés attention, "Those who matter know Sherlock and that he worked hard to fix things between us. We are not dating but we are something and have been for the past month now."

"So you knew?" Janine accused her, "You knew what he was planning to do, what he was doing to me? How can you look in the mirror and not hate yourself for allowing him to use another woman the way he did? What if it was you that he used like he did me? Are you telling me you wouldn't want revenge?"

Sherlock frowned and squeezed Molly's hand again before he focused on Janine, "I have used her. For years I took advantage of her affection for me, gave her cheep compliments, and demanded her assistance in exchange."

"I was against it, against Sherlock's plan." Molly piped in, interrupting Sherlock. She knew he was sincere but also knew part of the reason for his honesty was morphine and she didn't want him to admit all that while under influence of pain relievers. She needed him to say it because he wanted to. And to say it to her and only to her.

"But you eventually agreed to it." Janine pointed out.

"There was not other way. I'm sorry you got hurt in the process but I was there, in Baker Street, when the client arrived and I can completely understand why Sherlock took the case and why he was willing to go to the extreme to solve it."

Janine nodded and stood up from the edge of the bed. Instantly she looked at the newspaper spread on Sherlock's lap and frowned slightly. Molly wondered if it meant she felt guilty for giving all those false interviews. She was aware she felt guilty for her own role in the whole thing. But she knew for a fact she can't doubt Sherlock, she trusted him this long. There was no other way.

Janine seemed to have read Molly's mind, but she had a different opinion on the whole thing, "Say what you will, but it was wrong of you to do what you did. I would have helped if you have told me you needed my help; that you needed to get access to Magnussen's office."

"No." Sherlock muttered, he was feeling a bit better now that Molly fixed the morphine pump, "If you knew then you would be an accomplice. Now you are a victim."

"So this was to protect me?" she looked insulted, "I'm honestly supposed to believe that, you back-stabbing, heartless, manipulative bastard?"

Molly opened her eyes to respond, to protect Sherlock in any way she could and knew but he beat her to it, "Yes, you should, you grasping, opportunistic, publicity-hungry whore."

A sharp gasp made Sherlock turn towards his pathologist and see her look at him in shock. She never heard him talk like that before. His insults were usually about a person's intellect which she understood; this was a bit more personal.

"So, we're good, then?" Janine asked with a small smile.

Sherlock shrugged slightly before answering, "Yeah, of course."

"Alright then." Janine laughed and took her coat from the bottom of the bed and turned to leave.

"That's it?" Molly was confused, "You two insult each other and then make up again in a matter of seconds."

"I can't be angry at him forever." Janine pointed out with a small grin, "After all I heard stories about Sherlock Holmes before. So I have no one to blame but myself. And you a bit since you are a woman and really shouldn't allow your boyfriend to share his bed with another woman. Case or no case."

"Sherlock's not my boyfriend." Molly corrected the only part of that statement that she didn't considered to be true, "He's… something."

"Well your something's dumb plan got me a nice cottage. Who would think that answering a few questions about Sherlock Holmes would get me such a nice sum of money? The cottage needs some redecorating to fit my style more and I need to get someone to remove the bee hives, but all in all it was a nice purchase." She took out her keys from the purse and jingled them, the deerstalker keychain glittering in the sunlight that came through the tall windows.

Molly and Sherlock watched silently as Janine turned around and left the room. None of them said anything for several minutes, both closed off in their own minds.

Eventually Molly shook her head, circled around the bed and took the plastic chair that was placed next to the door unused by the last visitor. Unlike Janine she didn't want to sit on the bed and disturb Sherlock.

"I wonder how mad Mary will be at you." Molly said with a smile. She liked the new Mrs. Watson and the fact she knew exactly how to handle Sherlock.

"Why?" he asked. She frowned slightly; there was something about Sherlock, something that appeared on his face when she mentioned Mary, but she didn't understand what. And she didn't like that.

"Why?" she repeated the question, not believing he even asked it, "Because she's Mary's friend and you hurt her. Sort of… and she got revenge. Sort of…"

"They aren't that good friends." Sherlock whispered, so silently Molly barely heard him. But she did hear what he said and she was confused.

There was something more going on, something he wasn't telling her. But she knew he wouldn't explain, not until he was ready. That's why she suddenly decided not to ask him about the shooting and instead opted to sit down and tell him about the last post-mortem she performed.

Something told her that was the better option of the two.

* * *

**This chapter is shorter then the ones I usually write but I hope you all like it.  
**


	6. Chapter 6: A matter of trust

**I usually break longer chapters in two but since I made you all wait an entire month for an update I decided to post the whole thing in one go. Let me know what you think.**

* * *

The intern stopped mid-step and turned towards the nurse station. It was currently empty so he didn't have anyone to ask to be completely certain but he was quite convinced that his college didn't released the patient from room 72 during the previous shift. After all the man was still recovering from being shot. Releasing him too soon could and would cause serious complications.

He knew patients almost never did as told after being released from the hospital and in the case of Mr. Holmes such thing could be fatal. One wrong move before the wound is completely healed and all the stitches could rip; a bleeding that severe would require another operation and a longer recovery time.

The papers clipped at the end of the bed were proof that was not the case. The patient was supposed to still be confined to the bed.

After checking the small toilet connected to the room, and finding it empty as well, the intern returned to the nurse station and was about to call security when a man entered the ward and, nodding in his direction, walked in the suspiciously empty room.

Seconds later he exited it and two men looked at each other.

"You are related to Mr. Holmes?" the young intern asked the blonde man who looked more annoyed then worried.

"No, I'm his friend. He escaped, didn't he?"

"Well, this isn't a prison so I wouldn't call it escaping. But yes, Mr. Holmes left without being released."

"And without anyone noticing." The man added, "So basically he escaped."

The intern nodded silently and dialed the number of the main reception. It wasn't a common thing for the patients to vanish but it happened few times that elder people went for a walk through the wards and forgot the way to their rooms. Mr. Holmes wasn't old and senile but he needed to inform the security to look for him anyway. Perhaps he wanted to take a walk as well, in hope it would speed up his recovery like some patients do, and decided to rest along the way.

The visitor had different plans; he took out his cell phone and, before the intern managed to remind him those weren't allowed on the ward, walked out through the glass doors. He didn't hear exactly what was being said but the word "idiot" was easily recognizable, as was "I'll kill him myself".

* * *

It was Molly's day off and she had every intention to stay in her old pajamas the entire time, doing absolutely nothing but eat and watch telly. Maybe read a few chapters of the old, beat up book that was slowly falling apart that she found among her mother's things years ago.

So when a weak knock on her front door, shortly followed by a sound of someone leaning on the wood, she was ready to shout at who ever was at the other side to go away. But a feeling in her stomach caused her to get up of the soft, comfortable couch, put on a dressing gown that hid the washed out pajamas from sight, and patted barefoot to the door.

"Please, don't lean on the door. I'm opening them." She called and then waited few seconds before unlocking and pressing down on the doorknob.

Molly opened the door just a bit and peaked through the doorjamb at the person who knocked before she pulled the door wide open, making it match her eyes as she stared at the consulting detective standing in front of her. The man she knew was supposed to be in bed, in the hospital, recovering from a serious wound that could have killed him if the paramedics got to him just few minutes later than they did.

"Sherlock… what…"

But the detective didn't bother waiting till she found the right words to ask him what he was doing there and why he was out of the hospital. Instead he walked pass her and sat in the armchair next to the couch. The armchair that became his soon after he and Molly became that something they still haven't defined, despite both of them knowing what that something was.

Molly closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Once she exhaled she closed the door that was still wide open and returned to her previous position on the tan couch. But while she was completely relaxed before the surprise visit right now she was tight as a spring, ready to jump up again and call the paramedics at first little clue that Sherlock was feeling any pain.

Several minutes passed in silence, minutes in which Molly's worry slowly turned into anger. But she remained quiet, and let Sherlock ponder on what ever was currently stuck in that big brain of his.

"Aren't you going to make me tea?" Sherlock finally spoke and Molly had the urge to hit him with a pillow that was lying innocently right in front of her. Luckily for him she refrained herself.

Sherlock's eyes never left Molly's form as she got up from the couch and walked to the small kitchen. He watched her fill the kettle with water and turn it on, take two large cups from the cupboard and drop teabags inside before reaching to the fridge to get the milk.

He loved doing that, just watch her do mundane things with her incredibly steady hands.

For a moment he wished he was a normal man, a man who would walk down the street with the woman he loved, her hand in his, their fingers interlaced. A man who didn't have a problem voicing his feelings or acting on them. A man worthy of Molly Hooper.

But he wasn't ordinary like his parents. He was different like Mycroft, and like his brother he believed loving someone makes a person weak. A belief that was slowly being torn down, just like a wall around his heart, by a mousy pathologist from Saint Bartholomew hospital.

A sound of a cup being placed in front of him made Sherlock focus back on his pathologist after his mind wondered off. She was back on the couch, her feet covered with a soft afghan, and a second cup of tea in her hands.

"Are you going to tell me now how and why you left the hospital?" she eventually asked; never even looking in his direction; instead focusing on the steaming liquid.

But just as Sherlock opened his mouth to answer her phone rang, piercing the silence with a sound of cheerful violin music. Instantly he frowned, not only because he had a pretty good guess who was the caller but because his Molly had such ridiculous sound on her phone. If she wanted violin music she could have said so. He would have played for her.

In fact he did play for her. He composed for her. So why wasn't that playing?

"I'm not here and you are surprised I would do something so reckless like leaving the hospital before I recovered." Sherlock instructed right before Molly accepted the call.

"Hello, John? How are you? How's Mary?" Molly asked and Sherlock smiled, pleased with her acting abilities, "What do you mean… he what?" a frown appeared on Molly's face and she sighed, "No John. I haven't seen him… God, I wish I was surprised but I'm not. It's just like Sherlock, isn't it? Doing something so reckless, like leaving the hospital before he was recovered and discharged. Have you called Greg already?" Sherlock frowned at the name, who was Greg, "Alright, I can help look for him too." Now it was Sherlock's time to frown, he didn't want her to leave, he needed her there in the flat, "Oh, alright. Let me know if there's any way I can help. Good luck."

"I can explain everything." He spoke the moment she disconnected the call.

"Please do." Molly muttered.

"But not now."

"Sherlock!" she snapped at him, "I have just lied to John and I want to know why! Why did you leave the hospital when your wound is nowhere near being healed enough for you to get discharged by a doctor? You know what a doctor is, don't you? It's the person who patched you back together after you did something incredibly stupid and got yourself hurt! A person with a medical degree, and who certainly knows better then you, if a patient is well enough to leave the hospital! John is a doctor, I am a doctor! You on the other hand are NOT a doctor! So why did you leave the hospital?!"

"Can I speak now?" Sherlock asked, observing Molly with a small smile. She didn't get this angry often but when she did it was rather fun to observe as she waived her hands to emphases her point, and the way her face flushed and her eyes sparkled. When she gets angry she gets passionate about what she's saying.

Of course it's always more fun to watch it as an observer and not the person who made her this angry.

"Yes, you can speak now. And you better explain yourself William Sherlock Scott Holmes!"

Sherlock winced, not from pain but from hearing her scowl him using his full name. It was like he was a child again and his mother just found out he dug out her flowers because he was convinced there was a chest with treasure underneath. There wasn't. Mycroft lied.

"I left because I'm setting up a trap."

"Is this still for that damn case?" Molly interrupted him.

"No." Sherlock took a deep breath before continuing, he knew what he was about to say won't calm her down. It's highly possible it will have the completely different effect, "I'm going to trap my shooter tonight."

The silence that followed his explanation was so uncomfortable Sherlock intentionally slurped his now cold tea just to create noise, any noise.

"You know who the shooter is." Molly eventually spoke. It wasn't a question. It was a statement. She knew that he knew exactly who it was in Magnussen's office.

"Yes." He confirmed it anyway.

"They why did you tell Lestrade the person wore a mask? Why are you protecting someone who almost killed you?"

Sherlock lowered his head and after few seconds asked of Molly what he knew she was willing to do any other day, but he wasn't sure if she would do it today as well, "I need you to trust me Molly. The truth is more complicated then it seems and I don't know all the facts. Yes, I know 'who' but the 'why' is what's bothering me. I need to know what's going on."

"What you need to do is call Lestrade and tell him the truth and then call John and tell him where you are."

"I will call him. John, I mean… but not just yet. Molly do you trust me?"

Sherlock focused on Molly's warm brown eyes and recognized the exact moment when she decided to let him do his thing, "You know I do. And that's why I have to let you do this your own way. But I want the truth, Sherlock. The whole truth."

"And you will receive it in few hours. I won't leave you out of the loop."

"You better not, or I'll leave you out of body parts to experiment on." Molly threatened.

Sherlock smiled slightly at the threat because while he knew she would actually do it, another threat would have worked better. He would have been more inclined to do as she demanded if she threatened he would find himself without her.

"I plan to have everything resolved tonight at Baker Street. So be there at 10 tonight."

"You plan to set up a trap at Baker Street? With Mrs. Hudson there?" Molly was starting to doubt the sanity of his plan.

"No. My trap will be elsewhere, I'm in a possession of the most useless piece of property in London. It's in Leinster Gardens. So what I need you to do is to tell that to the first person who is smart enough to come to visit you and ask if you know any of my bolt holes."

"You suspect the shooter knows you left the hospital and will follow one of the people who are trying to find you. Won't that put them in danger?"

"No. No one will be in any danger." Sherlock tried to calm her down but even he knew that was pointless. Molly worried about him and about all her friends; it's just how she was.

"You said the same thing when you broke in Magnussen's office. And then you got shot."

"Ah, but I didn't break in. Janine let me in the office."

"You are seriously going to use that argument, Sherlock?"

After few seconds of pondering Sherlock shrugged his shoulders, "Yep."

Molly snorted and got up from the couch again to take the empty cups to the kitchen, "You should probably change before you go."

"My things?" Sherlock's head snapped in her direction.

"Are in my bedroom. I picked them up from the hospital for you. The shirt is ruined, but the suit is fine. It's washed and hanging in the wardrobe, your Belstaff is keeping it company."

"Thank you Molly. I know I don't say it often but I would be lost without my pathologist." He spoke before getting up and heading in the direction of the bedroom.

Molly leaned from her position in front of the sink and looked in Sherlock's direction. He was currently wearing green scrubs he nicked at the hospital and she couldn't help but wish he was in a hospital gown. One that was tied at the back.

That would be the best payment for all the trouble he put her through in the past several days, what between worrying her after he got shot and meeting his fake girlfriend. Not to mention this new plan of his that includes meeting his shooter in an abandoned building without any backup. Or hopefully with John as backup.

Molly washed both cups and placed them on the rack to dry before moving back to the couch. She took her book off the coffee table and opened it at the page where she previously stopped reading moments before her bedroom door opened and Sherlock walked in the sitting room, now properly dressed but without his beloved coat.

She chose to ignore him as he sat down on the armchair and took her cell phone. At first she believed it was because he didn't have his own at the moment, before she remembered it was on a chest in her bedroom, on a visible place, charging after the battery started to beep signaling it was empty. But it should be fully charged by now.

She was about to get up, once more, and go check when a question took her by surprise.

"Why do you have that strange music as your ringtone?"

"What?" she was confused.

"That cheerful violin music. I left you the CD with the composition I wrote just for you, we danced to it just a month ago. Why isn't that playing when someone calls?"

"Because it plays when you call." Molly answered with a smile, "And only you. And the ringtone I assigned to John isn't strange. It's an acclaimed piece by an award winning composer."

Sherlock placed the phone down on the coffee table and leaned back in the armchair. He was pleased she did in fact have her composition on her phone and that it played when he called her. Only problem was he rarely ever called. He texted all the time but only called one in a month or so.

"Which award?" he eventually asked.

"For that particular music an Oscar. It's from a movie and it reminded me of John for some reason. It's called Concerning Hobbits."

"Hobbits?" Sherlock looked at her and frowned.

"From The Lord of the Rings books, and… well… movies. Please tell me you know what I'm talking about."

"Of course I do. I'm just wondering if you picked that music because John reminds you of a hobbit."

Molly smiled, "Because of his friendly personality?"

"Because he's short."

"Sherlock!"

The cell phone rang again, this time a different melody played, one that caused Molly to groan. It was her boss and the fact he called on her day off could only mean one thing.

She was needed at Barts.

* * *

John was sitting in his armchair at Baker Street and tried to remember any other possible location where Sherlock could be hiding. But he ran out of ideas after several hours of looking all around London with the help of Lestrade and Anderson, of all people. Mary was helping them as well for a while but she returned home after a while when her morning sickness kicked in.

Mrs. Hudson was currently in the kitchen, sorting through some things Sherlock left on the counter, and every once in a while offered to make him tea or something to eat. But he wasn't hungry and didn't want any tea. He wanted to find Sherlock and shout profanities at the consulting detective that had the unique ability of making him immensely angry.

He was about to refuse yet another offer for a sandwich when his cell phone rang. A name on the screen made him frown.

"It's him, isn't it?" Mrs. Hudson asked when she noticed him hesitating, "Well go ahead and answer it."

John pressed the accept button and asked, "Sherlock, where are you?"

* * *

Mary pushed the door of the morgue open and entered the quiet room. There wasn't a soul in sight, making the sterile white room even more creepier then it already was.

Last time she was there Molly Hooper was present warming it with her very presence and her cheerfulness. How a woman who saw good in anything could work in a place where she could firsthand see the proof of evil that existed in the world was beyond her.

A soft voice was coming from the room on her right, from behind the double doors that led to a post-mortem examination room, and after a few seconds Mary Watson recognizes the person talking as just the person she was looking for.

She pushed the door slightly and entered the cold room, grateful that she still had her grey coat on. Molly was turned towards her but didn't notice her yet, since she was focused on the open cadaver on the slab.

"Molly?" she called the pathologist to get her attention.

Molly was rather proud at herself for not dropping a scalpel she was holding, she just took a shaky breath and looked at the blonde woman standing by the door.

"Mary, how are you?"

"Worried." Her visitor answered, approaching the slab slowly.

"Because of Sherlock? I knew he was capable of doing stupid things but this is… it's right up there with breaking into a government facility and jumping of a building." Molly sighed, "I don't suppose you came to tell me you found him?"

Mary shook her head, "I'm afraid not. I came for information; I hoped you might have a clue of where he might be. We checked all his bolt holes that we knew of and some only Anderson knew about but we didn't find a single trace of him being there recently."

"Anderson?" Molly was confused by that little detail.

"Yes, he's a fan apparently." Mary explained.

The pathologist opposite of her looked rather shocked, "When did that happen? Anderson couldn't stand Sherlock. Oh well, I heard stranger things. Anyway… bolt hole…"

"Yes." Mary suddenly seemed in a rush, "Do you know any?"

"Before, right after the fall, he stayed in my flat. The address changed since then but I suppose he may see my new one as one as well. But he wasn't there when I left. I only know of one other, it's in Leinster Gardens somewhere. He never said exactly where and I admit I never asked. Hope that helps when I can't. I was about to get dressed and help with the search when my boss called with the good news of my day off being canceled due to the mortuary being a bit short on staff."

"It's alright, we understand." Mary said and turned around to leave when Molly spoke again.

"You have a stronger stomach then some of the interns we had last month. Have you though about continuing your education and maybe becoming a doctor?"

Mary smiled, "One doctor in the family is enough." She placed a hand on the small swell of her stomach, "And who knows, maybe this one will follow his father's footsteps."

"It's a boy?" Molly asked with a wide grin.

"Sherlock claimed it was, not sure how he could possibly know that. Anyway, I'll let you go back to your job and meet with the search party. One of us will let you know when we find him."

* * *

Mary stopped on the corner of the street and looked around. There wasn't a living person in sight, no car passed by her since she exited the Bayswater Underground station and walked to the street Molly had pointed her to.

She considered there was a possibility she was on a wild goose chase and Sherlock wasn't anywhere in the area but she had to check, she had to talk to him before he got to John.

She loved John and hated the fact she way lying to him this entire time but she had no choice, not anymore. If she told him the truth now, or worse, if Sherlock did, then she would lose him. And that was something she couldn't allow.

Mary closed her eyes and took a deep yet shaky breath. If only… if only she was honest with John from the start. He was a solder, he would have understood.

She walked past the first house when the wind started to blow forcing her to button up her grey coat. She rarely wore it since she preferred the bright orange one, but she didn't feel like wearing such a cheerful color at such a moment, not when her entire future with John could go down like a house of cards.

A phone ring made her pause and look around. There was a homeless man on the other side of the street and the ringing seemed to come from his direction. But he wasn't reacting. Instead he crossed the road and stopped few feet from Mary who observed him with suspicious.

She read on John's blog Sherlock was really good at masking his identity but even he wasn't this good. Still, the fact remained the man was obviously there because of her.

"Mr. Holmes sends his regards." He mumbled and handed her the item he kept in his pocket, the source of the continuous ringing, before walking past her and into the night.

There was no name on the screen, only numbers, but Mary had a good memory. She remembered his phone number just as she remembered John's.

"Sherlock… this cat and mouse game really wasn't necessary." She said after accepting the call.

"_Oh, but it was. There are some things that shouldn't be discussed in a hospital room where anyone could overhear things that should remain a secret."_

"You can't tell him." She mumbled.

"_Stop me."_ Sherlock dared her.

Mary shook her head, "Where are you?"

"_You did a good job with a skip code… and with breaking into Magnussen's office. You'll have to reveal to me how you managed to do that some day. You are obviously smart, so finding me shouldn't be a problem. I'll even give you a hint. I'm in a place that is different. So take a good look around Mary Watson."_

* * *

Molly Hooper was completely unaware of what was going on in the strange house in Leinster Gardens. Yes, she was worried about Sherlock and his safety but she had faith in him. So she finished the post-mortem she started just before Mary came around and was finishing the paperwork so the body could be released to the family when her cell phone binged with a text message alert.

It was from Sherlock, he was telling her everything was going according to plan, he's with John and they are expecting the shooter to walk right into the trap soon.

Molly couldn't help but smile, Sherlock came a long way from that arrogant git that knew she was asking him out for coffee and made it seem like he misinterpreted her invitation for an offer to make him a cup.

Looking at the time on the phone she noticed it was just after 9 and if she wanted to be at Baker Street at the agreed time she needed to finish the paperwork and catch a cab. Usually she went with tube but tonight she decided to make an exception.

At the same time Mary Watson was entering the strange house in Leinster Gardens with every intent do anything she needs to do to ensure John never finds out about her secret. But as Sherlock sometimes says, there is always something.

This time that something was John. John who saw his wife shooting a coin she threw in the air, a skill he didn't know she possess, a skill he himself didn't possess. John who heard the woman who carries his child threatens and then pleads his best friend to lie to him, to conceal the truth. John who saw the devastation in the eyes of the woman he loves but obviously doesn't know as she realized he was there the whole time.

John who didn't know how to accept it all; who didn't understand what he did to deserve something like that.

* * *

Mrs. Hudson heard the front door opening and walked out of her flat to greet the newcomer. She was rather surprised to see it was Molly; the sweet pathologist that she hoped would soon become permanent resident in Baker Street. She was expecting John with the news he found Sherlock and made him return to the hospital where he belongs.

"Tea, dear?" she asked right away, seeing how tired Molly looked.

"That would be nice, Mrs. Hudson." She answered and followed the older woman upstairs, "I take it John and Sherlock haven't returned yet."

"No, not yet. Is there something I should know?"

Molly sighed, she didn't want to lie to the older woman but at the same time she didn't want to make her upset, she still remembered vividly rushing to the hospital when John informed her everyone's favorite landlady had a heart attack.

"Sherlock plans to confront his shooter tonight, that's why he ran away from the hospital." In the end she opted to just tell the truth.

"Oh, my… that boy sure gets into a lot of trouble. I really should have a word with his mother." Mrs. Hudson shook her head and walked in the kitchen.

Molly followed and took out the tea cups while Mrs. Hudson put the kettle on. But before the water even got warm the front doors of 221B Baker Street were opened with a bang and a set of footsteps could be heard marching upstairs, followed by two other sets.

It was just as Molly expected, just as Sherlock said, they managed to catch the shooter and… this was when Molly finally realized that made no sense. Why would they bring the shooter to Baker Street? And why would the person who fired at and wounded Sherlock even go with them anywhere? It made no sense.

That was until she saw John storm in the flat and kick a dining chair making Mrs. Hudson flinch. Behind John was Mary and the third person who entered the flat was Sherlock.

Three. That was the number of people she expected to see tonight in Sherlock's flat. And here they were. Sherlock. John. And the shooter.

"You figured it out, haven't you?" Sherlock asked Molly. He watched her closely from the moment she stepped out of the kitchen and recognized the exact moment she connected the dots. She was once more proving exactly how smart she was.

Molly didn't say anything, she never got the chance. She was cut off when John started to rant.

"I can't believe this! I can not believe this! What did I do to deserve someone like you?" he shouted at Mary who stood silently in a corner and just let him say everything he needed to say, "Am I such a bad human being that I deserve to be punished like this? To be lied to and deceived by a woman I lo… You know what? I don't think I can say it right now… I don't think that is even what I feel right now…"

"You do." Sherlock said and John twirled and looked at him like he's insane, "You love her."

"Shut up, Sherlock! Just… just don't talk right now!"

"But it's true. We all surround ourselves with people that are most similar to us." Sherlock insisted, completely disregarding his friends request to stay out of it, "You are a man of action. You crave adrenalin and adventures. Domesticity isn't your thing, you are trying for Mary's sake, but every once in a while you need to do something dangerous. That's why you went into a drug den, that's why you went with me when we were looking for that bomb. That's why you managed to see me as your friend."

"You don't know what you're talking about!" John responded and turned towards Mary again.

"Yes, he does." Molly said weakly. She didn't want to interfere but she felt like she should, "And I know too. We are similar John, much more then we first realized. We can't form social connections with people, not really. It's because we don't know how to relate to them. To a regular person the most exciting thing that happens is seeing a celebrity on tube. To us that's banal. Because we see things they don't. That's why our relationships don't work either."

"Molly…" John tried to warn her to stop but she cut him off.

"You need someone exciting, someone who understands your need for adrenaline. Any other woman would nag you about how dangerous your friendship to Sherlock is, Mary encourages it because she sees that being friends with Sherlock brings you the things you need in life. It's the same thing with me. And with Sherlock. We all need those who encourage us to do what we do best, not to hold us back."

"You chose her, John." Sherlock eventually broke the silence that followed Molly's words, words he agreed with wholeheartedly, "You knew she was different, you knew she was exactly what you needed in life. You just didn't realize it… you didn't know what made her just the right woman for you, but you knew that's exactly what she was. What she still is."

"I can't just go over this… I can't accept…"

"Than ask why." Mrs. Hudson suggested and four people turned to look the landlady what stood at the door to the kitchen, "In my experience people do things like this for a reason."

"And Mrs. Hudson would know this because she ran a drug cartel." Sherlock piped in.

"I didn't run it, my husband did. I was just typing."

"And performing as an exotic dancer." Sherlock had to have the last word.

"Really?" Molly asked the older woman with a wide smile.

"Not important, dear." She waved Molly off, something the pathologist didn't mind at all since that response pretty much said it all, and instead focused back on John, "Ask why."

John took a chair he previously kicked down and placed it in the middle of the sitting room, it was a movement he did countless times, but never in his worst nightmares did he expect to place it there for his wife.

"Sit." He instructed Mary who watched his movements with interest. When she didn't move from her spot he sighed, "You will sit here and Sherlock and I will sit in the armchairs. And we will do the same thing we do with everyone else who come to us. We will listen to your story and decide if your case is worthy of our time."

Molly remained on the sidelines but she didn't mind. She saw herself as an impartial observer, as a person who didn't judge before knowing all the facts. At least she tried. She couldn't accept that Mary Watson pulled the trigger and shot Sherlock, but she understood. At least there was that.

When Mary placed a flash drive at the small table Molly felt her heart break. A person's entire life should be more then just saved data and initials. But that is all there was from life Mary Watson led before coming to London.

"You believe Magnussen knows these things?" Sherlock asked.

"He implied… and made several remarks that were about things he shouldn't know. No one should know these things. But he did." Mary explained, "I would receive messages from time to time. Nothing threatening, just a reminder that he knows. Like the telegram on the wedding, the one sighed by C.A.M.."

"That's why you became friends with Janine. To get closer to him. To get access to his office." John concluded. She did the same thing Sherlock did.

"No. When I first met Janine she didn't work for him. She was just the girl that moved across from me soon after I came to London and started to work in the clinic. My friendship with her was merely a coincidence."

"The universe is rarely so lazy." Sherlock remarked and Mary looked at him.

"I am telling you the truth. I didn't want anything to do with Magnussen… I didn't want anything to do with my former life either. That's why I came to London. To start all over again."

"I accept that. But sometimes things are more complicated then they appear on first glance." Sherlock commented, "But, be as it is, I'll take it."

"Take it?" Mary asked confused.

"Your case." He elaborated, "Now, Mrs. Hudson, please do let those paramedics inside."

"What…" but before Mrs. Hudson managed to finish her sentence a loud banging was heard on the door downstairs and Sherlock leaned forward in his armchair and almost fell out.

The only thing that prevented it were good reflexes of both John and Mary who rushed to aid their friend. Their hands touched as they supported Sherlock's body while Molly ran down the flight of stairs before the older landlady even managed to turn around.

John looked at Mary as she supported part of the weight of the same man she gravely injured just a week ago and saw what he always saw. A woman he loved. That part hasn't changed, just like Sherlock said.

It was now only a matter of trust.

* * *

**Hope the chapter was worth the wait.**


	7. Chapter 7: Together

**I owe a big Thank you! to a guest who left a review for the previous chapter. It was lovely to read someone thinks such amazing things about my stories, I couldn't stop smiling. **

**This chapter is shorter then usual to prevent a 'few months later' in the middle of a chapter. And also because I didn't want to ruin Sherlolly fluff with more serious events that are to happen.**

* * *

"And it's not even my Birthday…" was the first thing that came out of Molly Hooper's mouth as she opened the front door of her flat and walked in.

Sherlock somehow managed to get in her flat while she was at work, something that didn't surprise her since he had no problem picking her lock, and decided to get cozy on her couch. And by cozy it meant his coat was on the rack by the door with his shoes below it, his clothes were neatly folded in her bedroom and he was currently wrapped in a sheet he took off her bed. With nothing beneath it.

"Sherlock, not that I mind but why are you here?" she asked while placing her coat next to his and her bag on the sideboard.

"I needed some peace and quiet to think." He answered and closed his eyes again.

Molly nodded in understanding, "Mary mentioned John is still at Baker Street."

"Hmmm… yes. I don't remember him being this difficult to live with."

"That's because you were too busy being difficult to live with." Molly commented.

Sherlock sat up, letting the white cotton sheet fall from his shoulders and spread all around him, making Molly almost trip over her own feet on her way to the kitchen. A frown was on his face but truth be told at the moment his face wasn't what she was focusing on.

"I was never hard to live with!" he protested and then scoffed as Molly snorted at the absurdness of that statement.

"Sherlock, you shoot the wall because you were bored, you played the violin at night, on more then one occasion John almost accidentally became a cannibal thanks to you not labeling your experiments. And let's not forget the most recent proof."

"And which is that?" he asked, annoyed by the fact she was right.

"You took the sheet off my bed, one I only placed there yesterday, and are now casually lounging in my sitting room wearing nothing by the said linen."

Sherlock pulled the soft cotton back around his shoulders and lied down, mumbling something Molly didn't hear properly.

"What was that?"

"It smells like you." He repeated, louder this time, "I can't think properly in Baker Street, and there was no point of going to the morgue when you were almost finished with your shift, so I came here. My mind was racing and I needed something to calm me down and your scent usually does the trick."

If he happened to look at Molly at that moment he would see a bright smile on her face, a smile reserved only for him, for those rare moments when he would do or say something that was so very unlike the Sherlock Holmes from before the fall.

"You could have simply lied down in my bed." She said eventually. It took a while to find the words after being swept off her feel like she was.

"I tried that. It was cold without you there."

Molly sighed and sunk in the armchair, her legs giving up. She wondered if Sherlock knew what he was doing to her, if he had any idea how much his words meant to her. Loving him was like a drug, she just couldn't stop.

She and Sherlock only shared a bed once, the day after his fake relationship with Janine started. He came to her flat late that night, woke her up just moments after she dozed off on the couch, picked her up and took her to the bedroom. She was really surprised when he neatly folded his clothes and placed them on a chair in the corner before joining her under the covers. The feeling of his arms wrapping around her, his breath mingling with hers as they lied facing each other; it was a dream come true.

That was when he apologized for hurting her by taking the case. She tried to convince him that it was alright but it didn't work. Sherlock knew her better then anyone else. He knew how insecure she was sometimes and how hurt she was by the fact he'll be calling another woman his girlfriend.

Molly sighed. It's been around a month since then and she couldn't help but feel resentment that Janine became a girlfriend, albeit fake, after just few days, while she still waited for that title.

"Tea?" she asked, getting up from the armchair, the feeling of butterflies in her stomach now gone.

"What's wrong?" Sherlock asked back instead of answering, "Molly, what is it?"

"I'm tired. Do you want tea?"

She heard the rustling of sheets as Sherlock got up from the couch and walking in her direction. She turned around after placing the kettle with water on the stove and saw him standing just few steps away from her, observing her like she was a sample under the microscope.

"You are angry I broke in your flat." He concluded.

"No." she responded honestly, "You know you are always welcome."

"Molly?"

"I should probably give you your own key so you don't have to break in. One of the neighbors might see you do it and call the police. I'll-"

The kettle whistled and Molly turned away from Sherlock, not seeing the sad smile that appeared on his face.

"What do you need?" he eventually asked.

Molly placed the cup she picked up back on the counter and turned around. She lifted her gaze and looked Sherlock straight in the eyes. He was still observing her but not like before. She was no longer a sample he wanted to understand.

Sherlock stepped forward and leaned down, bringing his forehead to Molly's and smiled, making her smile back.

"You." She answered, "I just need you."

"I don't want tea." Sherlock suddenly said, "I want to feel warm."

Molly frowned a bit before she remembered his previous comment about the bed being cold without her in it. He wanted to feel warm; he wanted her next to him in the bed.

"I want us to name what we are."

"What do you want us to be?" Sherlock asked.

Molly smiled, "Together."

"Molly Hooper, will you be a woman with whom I am romantically involved?"

She couldn't help but snicker at the absurdity of the moment, Sherlock Holmes was asking her to be his girlfriend without actually saying the word girlfriend, while wrapped in her sheet.

She wondered briefly how high were the chances of him dropping the linen if she happened to snog him in that moment. And with a small giggle Molly Hooper decided to do just that and see that happens.

* * *

She wasn't completely awake when Sherlock answered his phone and told the person on the other side he will be there in an hour. A brief kiss on her lips woke her up a bit more; enough to understand him explain that Mycroft needs his assistance. It was only when the sound of the front door closing declared she was now alone in the flat did Molly started to function properly and sat up in bed, the cover pooling around her, causing goose bumps to appear on her bare skin.

She giggled and let herself fall back on the soft mattress before she snuggled the pillow on her right, the pillow that smelled like Sherlock.

Glancing on the clock on the bedside table she saw it was still early to get up, she worked the shift from 9 in the morning till 5 in the afternoon so there was still plenty of time for her to spend cocooned in the soft covers and remember how her plan worked perfectly.

* * *

Mary Watson was waiting in front of Saint Barts when Molly exited thought the main entrance. She was standing on the sidewalk, trying to look inconspicuous, but at the same time standing out in her bright orange coat and pink hat and scarf set.

Not exactly how one would imagine a skilled assassin.

"Mary, is something wrong? Is the baby alright?" she asked right away, her mind switching to the worst case scenario.

"I'm fine Molly; the baby is fine as well. I was just wondering if you would like to go and grab something to eat."

Molly nodded with a smile, "Of course, I'm famished. Any particular craving?"

"Does John's company count?" Mary asked as the two of them started to walk down the Giltspur Street towards the nearest tube station.

Molly sighed, "Still no contact?"

"No." Mary answered, "I don't even know where he is right now. I mean, I know he's staying in Baker Street at the moment, but I talked to Mrs. Hudson and she said that he and Sherlock left somewhere and she doesn't know where. Only that it's for a case." Mary wrapped her arms around herself and muttered, "He promised he would always contact me when he goes away on a case so I don't worry."

"They are doing something for Mycroft. He called Sherlock early this morning." Molly told her, glad that she could calm down the pregnant woman a bit.

"So Sherlock texted you that he's taking a case?"

A deep red blush spread on Molly's cheeks, "Ah… no. He was in my flat when his brother called."

"Doing what exactly?" Mary asked with a small grin on her face. Spending time with Molly turned out to be just the thing she needed.

"Sleeping. Like I said, it was early." Molly answered.

Mary rolled her eyes, "You two need to finally put a name to that thing you are and shag."

Molly giggled, "Oh… that came before sleeping."

* * *

Sherlock was already waiting in Molly's flat when she returned after a long dinner and some window shopping with Mary. But unlike yesterday he was fully dressed and pacing the length of the sitting room.

"Sherlock? Did something happen on a case?" she asked right away, "Is John alright?"

"John is fine." He answered after few moments, "Better then fine, this case opened his eyes, so to speak."

"Sherlock, sit down. I'll make us some tea and then you can explain what happened." She moved towards the kitchen but stopped when he spoke silently.

"Lord Smallwood committed suicide. Because of Magnussen, because I failed to get the letters."

Molly shook her head before pushing him down on the couch and sitting down next to him, tea completely forgotten, "That wasn't your fault. Think about it for a second! Even if you got them who is to say Magnussen wouldn't publish their content? Don't you understand? He doesn't need solid evidence, he only needs to publish something and the general public right away believes it. Remember how everyone right away bought the lies Kitty Riley wrote about you? That's what people do."

"John said something similar earlier."

"You should listen to him. And what did you mean this case opened his eyes?"

Sherlock looked at her, "He now understands Mary's actions, why she went as far as shooting me to… He went home to her."

Molly smiled, "Good. Mary really misses him."

"I will need to stop Magnussen."

"I understand."

"I don't know how far I'll have to go to do so." Sherlock added honestly, he knew she would prefer him to tell her as it is then to try and sugarcoat it.

"Just come back to me once you're done."


	8. Chapter 8: Plans set in motion

A sound of the violin reached her pleasant dreams and Molly smiled despite being woken up far too early. It was becoming something she was used to, something that reminded her that after yeas of hoping and pinning she had that one thing she wished for. She had Sherlock loving her back.

The melody changed from one of the compositions she remembered from school to the one he wrote for her. She had no idea how Sherlock knew she was awake and listening and to be honest she didn't care. Unlike him she didn't feel the desire to know absolutely everything. Some things should remain a mystery.

Molly sat up, letting the cover pool around her, at the sound of footsteps approaching the bedroom.

The beautiful melody stopped before the door opened and the man of her dreams walked inside.

Sherlock was dressed in his usual attire he wore while in the flat; the black trousers, white shirt and a camel colored dressing gown. For some reason she preferred the red one on him, and he must have deduced it, because that one was now residing with some of his clothes in her flat. She made space for his things shortly after the first time they were together.

It seemed like a good idea at the time and Sherlock obviously agreed because the next time she arrived at Baker Street he took her hand and dragged her in his bedroom. To Molly's disappointment didn't ravage her, but he did showed her the space he made in his wardrobe for her clothes. That space was now filled with few pieces that were work appropriate, since sometimes she went to Barts directly from Baker Street. Stopping at her own flat wasn't much of a hassle but she liked this arrangement, so why go through the extra travel if it wasn't necessary.

"Good morning, Molly." He said with a small smile, one which she believed he reserved just for her.

"It would have been better if I woke up with you next to me." Molly said back before pushing the covers away and instantly shivering.

It was early December and rather cold in the bedroom; even with her long sleeved shirt on Molly felt the chills and instantly regretted she had to get up. The bed was warm and soft, even if she was alone in it. The sheets smelled of Sherlock and that alone gave her comfort when he wasn't there to share body heat with her.

"I apologize, but Geoff needed my help for a case really early and I didn't want to wake you up." Sherlock explained before following Molly out of the bedroom and into the kitchen.

"Oh." She mumbled.

"Yes, it was a waste of time. Not even a three." Sherlock's voice revealed he was displeased with the difficulty of the case, "The husband killed his wife and staged it like there was a burglary. He was allegedly locked in the bathroom. He even broke the door to make it appear like he was telling the truth."

"So what gave him away?" Molly asked curiously. She loved listening to Sherlock describe the cases he solved.

"Dirt."

A frown appeared on Molly's face before she placed the kettle for tea on the stove and turned around to look at Sherlock, "Dirt?"

"The husband hid the jewelry that he reported was missing in the flower pot. There was some soil spilled by one of the pots and stains on his trousers and shoes. He dug up a hole, hid the jewelry and buried it again to be sold later. He had a gambling problem and his wife wanted to divorce him. Since she was the one that was well off he would be left penniless."

"I see... And Lestrade needed your help to solve that?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes, "Current company aside, people tend to be idiots that see but don't observe."

"And yet you continue to associate with those people." A coincided voice came from the sitting room and both Molly and Sherlock turned to see Mycroft Holmes standing in front of the fireplace, looking at his reflection in the large square mirror above it.

"Yes, those pounds you've gained are starting to show." Sherlock instantly commented making his brother scoff.

"Good morning, Mycroft." Molly went with the more normal approach.

"Good morning, Miss Hooper." Mycroft greeted her back. He quite liked the pathologist; she was a good influence of his brother.

"Why are you here?" Sherlock asked straight out, ignoring Molly scowling him for being rude before she returned to the kitchen to make tea and something to eat.

"It's December." Mycroft said casually.

"So I've noticed."

"Mommy expects you to how up for Christmas this year. Both of you."

There was a shocked intake of breath coming from the direction of the kitchen that made Sherlock turn around and look at his Molly. She was currently looking at him with a shock written all over her face.

"It will only be for few hours Molly."

"Actually it won't." Mycroft corrected him, "Mommy expects everyone to be there on Christmas Eve early in the morning and we are all to stay in the house for Christmas as well. She said something about an empty nest."

"And who exactly is this 'everyone'?" Sherlock asked suspiciously.

"Why, the both of us, Miss Hooper, and John and Mary Watson. Of course."

Sherlock wasn't pleased so he reacted in the only way he could think about. By irritating his older brother, "Won't you bring any of your friends too, Mycroft? It's only fair since I'm required to invite mine."

Mycroft frowned before muttering, "Friends…" and making it sound like it was a swear word.

"Surely you have those." Sherlock continued to taunt his brother.

Mycroft scoffed, "I don't keep goldfishes."

"Goldfishes?" Molly asked, her eyes moving from one Holmes brother towards the other, hoping one of them will explain what that meant and hoping it wasn't another insult. But knowing Mycroft it probably was.

"Talk to your friends, brother dear." The older brother said, gripping his umbrella just a bit tighter, "And don't forget. Mommy insists."

Sherlock's smile was tight and obviously fake, "Of course. If mommy insists."

Mycroft nodded, pleased that for once Sherlock will do as told, obviously only because it was their mother that made the request, or an order depending how you see it, "I will leave you to your…"

Both brothers looked at the woman standing at the entrance to the kitchen, neither of them knowing how to call her.

"His Molly." She offered a title herself, making Sherlock smile in the process. He liked that; 'his' Molly.

Mycroft raised an eyebrow, like he couldn't believe he heard that, "To your Molly."

"Thank you." Sherlock said before adding, "Now get out."

To his brother's great Surprise the British government actually listened to him and left the flat. They could hear his footsteps as he walked down the stairs before the front door opened and closed few seconds later. Instantly Sherlock rushed to the door and peaked through, wanting to see with his own eyes that his brother left. He didn't move from his position until Mycroft sat in the back of a black town car and drove off.

Once the coast was definitely clear he turned towards his pathologist and smiled at her slightly.

"So, I get to meet your parents." She commented with a wide smile.

Sherlock rolled his eyes, "Obviously."

"I should get ready; I need to get to work. Any plans for today?" Molly asked, observing the consulting detective as he lied down on the couch and placed his hands under his chin before he closed his eyes, "Sherlock?"

"I need a plan. A plan of action how to stop Magnussen."

Molly nodded in understanding, "You know you can always count on me. What ever you need, I'm right here to help."

Sherlock opened his eyes and looked at her, their gazes locking, before a small smile appeared on his face, "I know Molly, I know I can always count on you."

"Even if it's borderline illegal." She added.

"Like faking my post-mortem and death certificate." He pointed out, "I won't put you in that kind of danger again. Never again. But I might ask you to do something crazy."

"I'm shagging you, how much crazier can it get?" Molly laughed, a bright blush coloring her cheeks, before turning around and leaving him alone in the sitting room while she changed into something work appropriate.

She didn't see his gaze following her, or a small grin that appeared on his face. He always liked her odd, and sometimes morbid, sense of humor. And he liked her. More and more each day.

When Molly exited the bedroom, properly dressed and ready to go, she found Sherlock where she left him, only now he was no longer responding when she spoke. He was deep in his Mind palace, a place she envied him for sometimes.

She didn't want to bother him but couldn't stop herself from placing a soft kiss on the edge of his beautifully shaped lips before she left the flat and walked down the stairs. She didn't notice her lover opening his eyes and looking after her before he closed them again and went back to planning.

* * *

The morgue was cold. It was always cold but today Molly could feel the chills in her bones. It was early December and she felt frozen solid by the time the cab dropped her off right at the entrance of the hospital. Usually she avoided taxis and went with a tube but when she stepped in front of 221B Baker street the cold wind convinced her not to walk to the nearest tube station and then from the station to Barts. A cab was much better option. If only one would stop for her. She should have used that application on her phone to call for one before exiting the warm building.

Entering her small office Molly took a look on the files on her desk and noticed there were only three of them. So a slow day, considering how hectic it can get sometimes.

With her lab coat buttoned up over a warm red jumper, and a pair of gloves in her hand Molly entered the examination room and stopped. All three bodies were laid out on the slabs and covered with sheets. Walking towards the nearest one she uncovered the body and looked it over for any signs of external injuries and bruising. There was no time to waste.

Her mind wondered to the past several weeks as she performed the post-mortem. What was once a particularly difficult case became almost an obsession for Sherlock. And that made her worry.

She was half way through the second post-mortem when the doors of the morgue opened with a well known bang. The world's only consulting detective was in the house.

"Molly?!" she heard him call and smiled. She loved when he sought her out. She didn't even have to answer because seconds later the door to the examination room opened and Sherlock walked inside.

"What do you need?" she asked, using the same word she did three years ago. It was something she and Sherlock did sometimes.

"Always you." He answered before adding, "Are you meeting Mary tonight as planed?"

"Yes."

Sherlock nodded absently and remained silent, giving Molly an opportunity to return to the autopsy. Every once in a while she would glance at the man that now started to pace the length of the room, a frown on his face and his lips moving from time to time but he wasn't saying anything.

She wanted to ask what was bothering him but she already knew the response. The case.

"It came to my attention that I constantly ask for your trust in me not to waver. I understand that is rather selfish of me and now that we are in an exclusive relationship we should be honest with each other. But…"

"But you want for me to trust you once more without giving me any information in return." Molly said with a sigh.

When Sherlock nodded silently she placed the scalpel she was holding on the small metal platter with the rest of the instruments before taking of her stained gloves and dropping them in the bin for used medical material.

She walked past the consulting detective and out of the examination room, with Sherlock instantly following her, and straight into her small office where they could talk in privacy.

Sherlock closed the door after he entered and turned to face Molly's wraith. But he quickly deduced she wasn't angry, she was sad.

"Molly?"

"Am I going to lose you because of this case?" she asked straight out. She didn't have the strength to beat around the bush, "I've been thinking about it the whole time I was at work today and it seems like it consumed you. And that frightens me because the last time I saw you like this it was the day-"

"The day I jumped." Sherlock finished for her, "I am willing to do a lot of things for this case, to take away the power of a man like Magnussen, but I will not do such a thing again."

"No one would probably believe it this time around." Molly commented with a small smile.

"Yes, people aren't particularly smart but even they wouldn't believe I died for real the second time." Sherlock mused before getting serious again, "I do plan a trick though, and once more I will require your help. Nothing as drastic as last time… alright, maybe a bit drastic… but no one you love will be harmed in any way."

Molly forced herself to remain serious as she commented, "That counts Mycroft out."

An actual snort coming from Sherlock made her smile, "I knew there was a reason I love you, Molly Hooper."

Molly's eyes widened, it didn't happened often so every time Sherlock admitted his feelings she was a lit startled. In a good way.

She had to get up on her toes to reach his lips but the soft kiss was worth the trouble, as was the smile she got from Sherlock. Instantly he leaned down and kissed her back, deepening it, prolonging it, till they had to separate, both gasping for breaths.

"I hate this case." Molly mumbled more to herself than to Sherlock, but he heard her nevertheless. And right away he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer and almost wrapping her in his coat.

He hated it as well. It started rather simple, straightforward. Get the letters and that's it. Now he was trying to help two of his closest friends and stop a power hungry newspaper owner. And he wasn't sure how far he will have to go to do so.

But he wasn't lying when he told Molly he wouldn't fake his death again, for starters because there won't be a need for that and also because he doesn't want to hurt her like that again, he doesn't want her to have to go to his funeral the second time. She won't suffer like that again.

Pulling back slightly, after placing a kiss on top of her head Sherlock finally spoke, breaking the silence, "I will need you to go and buy a certain item soon. It doesn't have to be today, but soon. Before Christmas."

"A gift for your parents?" Molly asked remembering the invitation, or rather the order, to spend Christmas with Sherlock's parents.

"More a gift for John and Mary." Sherlock corrected her.

Molly nodded, "So for a case… anything else?"

Sherlock shook his head, "I will do the rest myself. Thank you Molly."

"You're welcome. I still hate this case."

In response Sherlock simply kissed her, pouring every bit of the emotions he felt towards her into it. She was important, she counted. He loved her.

* * *

Just as few months previously Mary Watson waited in front of the main entrance to Saint Bartholomew hospital for Molly to exit after the long shift.

The said pathologist was tired and hungry and all she wanted was to go to Baker Street and snuggle in bed that smelled like Sherlock and sleep for few hours with the consulting detective right next to her.

But Sherlock received a call from Lestrade and went to assist with a case, and she missed Mary's company. So Molly took a deep breath and decided to just enjoy the meal and conversation before returning to the empty flat.

Or if she's lucky Sherlock will manage to solve a case in record time and will already be home waiting for her. Preferably wearing nothing but his sheet.

She must have had a smile on her face because Mary startled her by asking, "Thinking naughty thoughts about a certain detective?"

Molly mockingly gasped before answering, "Of course not. You know Greg and I are only friends."

"You mean Geoff." Mary corrected her.

Instantly Molly snorted, "No, I don't think that's it. Graham perhaps."

The two women laughed before interlocking their arms and walking towards the tube station. Mary wanted fish and chips so Molly decided to take her to a restaurant Sherlock preferred; he was rather picky about his food so when he said a certain restaurant had great food he was absolutely right.

Several tables were taken, but the two women were fortunate and a nice one in the corner next to the window was still free. The view wasn't much but the atmosphere inside was cozy. After walking from the tube station in cold winter air the warmth of the restaurant was divine.

More people thought so too because seconds after them a few more people entered the restaurant, a couple who were on a date and a business man that took a seat near them. And right away started to type on his phone.

"I hope you and John haven't planed anything special for Christmas." Molly said, remembering Mycroft's visit this morning, just as the waiter brought their food.

Mary took a still hot chip with her fingers, completely disregarding the fork next to her left hand, and bit it, burning her tongue a bit. She blew slightly on the other half before eating it, and only then did she focus back on the woman opposite of her.

"Sorry, I'm famished all the time." she said making Molly smile in understanding, "No, we don't have any plans. Why? Are you planning a get together in Baker Street? John told me he did that once, didn't end well."

"It ended with me being mortified and Sherlock receiving a message from a dominatrix whose dead body he identified just several hours later." Molly said remembering that awful evening, causing Mary to gap at her in shock.

"What did he do?" Mrs. Watson right away asked, knowing exactly who made the sweet and kind pathologist feel bad about herself, and ignoring completely the second part of Molly's explanation.

Molly rolled her eyes, "The same thing he always does. He deduced me. He was wrong though, he ended up apologizing and kissed my cheek."

"So not a completely ruined evening." Mary giggled.

"Hew hours later he identified a woman by her… not her face."

A cough suddenly startled Molly and her eyes snapped to Mary who was just taking a sip of her orange juice to make sure the food that got stuck in her throat goes down. Molly wondered if John ever told Mary about things he and Sherlock did, apart from the cases. Cause there are some great stories to tell.

"So… Christmas…" Mary returned to the subject after taking few deep breaths.

"Are you alright?" Molly asked before explaining, and when she got a nod in response she went to explain what happened that morning, "Mycroft came today to inform Sherlock it was December. Their mom expects both of them to be home for Christmas and for Sherlock to bring friends along. Apparently the same isn't expected from Mycroft." Molly added with a grin, "You should see him saying the word 'friends'. He looked disgusted. Like he was talking about the plague."

"So you are going to meet Sherlock's parents. That is a big step." Mary's grin was wide.

"And I'm looking forward to it. But so are you and John. Mrs. Holmes wants both of you to come along as well."

"John met them, Sherlock's parents, shortly after Sherlock returned. Said they seem like nice people. Completely ordinary, something that obviously can't be said for their sons."

"No, ordinary isn't a word one would use to describe either Mycroft of Sherlock." Molly said before she got startled by the vibration of her phone.

She took the bag of the back on her chair and tried to fish out her cell phone but before she managed she took out a large lump of yellow material. Instantly she frowned at it, since she was certain she threw that thing away. Placing it on the table she reached in her bag again and finally got her hand on the elusive phone.

The alert on the screen said she had a message from Sherlock. She read the short note and smiled. The case was a simple one and was solved.

"They are done with the case and will be returning home soon." Molly said before returning the phone in the purse and reaching for the yellow material on the table. Only to see it was gone.

Lifting her eyes she saw Mary now had the crumpled yellow bow in her hair, a wide smile on her face.

"You looked radiant at the wedding." She commented.

"You looked radiant." Molly corrected her, "I looked like the wallpaper."

"Sherlock noticed you." Mary pointed out.

"Sherlock didn't even realize I left early."

Mary sighed, "I'm glad you two finally got together. Even before I know either of you and I could see how important you were to each other. And who knows, maybe there will be an engagement in the near future." When Molly gasped Mary added with a grin, "I just hope no one crashes it like Sherlock ours."

"First, please don't mention engagement to Sherlock, you'll scare him off. Second, did he really showed up in the restaurant and pretended to be the waiter? And had you kicked out of a restaurant?"

Mary started to laugh, "You should have seen him. He used black pen to draw a mustache, but then wiped them off and asked John if his wipes off as well. That was when John attacked him and got us kicked out of the restaurant. We aren't allowed back in for few more months. And then we went to a small cafe similar to this one and got kicked out. And then to a tiny kebab shop where Sherlock ended up with a broken nose after once more saying the wrong thing."

Molly rolled her eyes, "What was it this time?"

"We wanted for John to admit he missed the thrill of the chase. Two of them chasing bad guys, solving cases. Instead of answering John head butted him."

"But he did miss it." Molly commented.

Mary nodded, "I know he did. He missed Sherlock. I'm glad he's back now."

"Me too." Twinkle in Molly's eyes showed truly was happy Sherlock returned to London but for completely different reasons.

"Um…" Mary started to speak but stopped, not sure how to ask, "Did Sherlock mentioned the case and maybe…"

Molly nodded and lowered her voice, "He has a plan how to stop CAM. Not sure if in general or just for that particular case but he come up with a solution. That's why he agreed so fast to go visit his parents for Christmas."

"Does he need help?" Mary right away asked.

"I'm doing a tiny part. He hasn't mentioned John to me so I don't know if he'll help as well. I don't think Sherlock would ask a pregnant woman for help. If something goes wrong and you or the baby got hurt he would never forgive himself."

"They why are you involved?" Mary asked seriously, "You are important to him, Molly. The most important person in the world. He shouldn't risk your safety."

"I don't count." Molly said making the blonde woman gasp, "Or rather, I get overlooked easily. That was the mistake Moriarty made, he placed snipers on three people but I wasn't one of them because he believed I was meaningless to Sherlock. That was his mistake, his downfall." Molly sighed, "Sherlock told me that one person who Moriarty thought didn't matter to him at all was one person who mattered the most."

Mary smiled, "I hope you snogged him after saying that."

"I was engaged at the time."

"Well do it tonight then." Mary said before a goofy grin spread on her face, "Maybe some post case shagging too."

"Mary!" Molly gasped at the boldness of that statement.

"What? Like you never done it before." Mary just kept grinning at the deep red blush that spread on her friend's cheeks, "Put on some nice lingerie, perhaps even-"

"Shirt." Molly interrupted her.

"Sorry?"

A small smile appeared on Molly's still blushing face, "I usually put on Sherlock's shirt."

"Oh, John likes that too."

"What, John likes it when you wear Sherlock's clothes?"

Mary snorted, "No idea but I wonder if I should try."

"I'll smuggle you one if you get me one of John's jumpers." Molly suggested.

Mary snickered, "Deal. Wonder how traumatized they would get."

Before Molly managed to respond a loud crash was heard from outside as the wind that was becoming stronger and stronger managed to knock down a bin. Both women instantly knew it was time to get a cab and go home.

"Not sure if we'll have a chance to do this again before Christmas." Molly said as she once more dug out her phone out of the purse and used the app to get them a cab, rather then for them to try and hail one.

At the same time Mary was taking out the big yellow bow from her hair and returned it to the owner who didn't really want it either.

"After Christmas then, after the case if closed." Mary said.

The two women stood up and put on their coats. While Mary was wrapping her long shawl around her neck Molly went to pay for their dinner.

Neither of them noticing the businessman glancing in their direction before he once more started to type a message to his boss.


	9. Chapter 9: Everything it takes

**Attention: I do not own anything! That is all!**

* * *

The sun already started to rise when Molly Hooper finally fell asleep.

It wasn't because she was working late, in fact she took few days off and wasn't at Barts the previous day at all. And it had nothing to do with the lovely, but heavy meal, she and Sherlock had with Mrs. Hudson and Watson's. Everyone's favorite landlady was going to stay with her sister till February thus missing the Christmas with her favorite tenants, both former and current, and their better halves, which is why she insisted on making a meal for the five of them.

Molly's insomnia also had nothing to do with the fact that, according to Sherlock, the case was almost closed. No, not even the thought of her lover facing Magnussen frightened the pathologist.

It was the thought of meeting Sherlock's parents and them not liking her.

It caused her to turn every few minutes, causing the warm to sheets tangle around her legs, until a strong hand wrapped around her waist and she got pulled closed towards the man lying next to her. Once her back got pressed to his firm chest and his warm breath tickled her neck Molly sighed.

"There is no need for you to worry." Sherlock sounded half asleep, "Mommy will be thrilled to meet you."

"I know. You said that already. But I can't help it." Molly responded before she turned around once more, with Sherlock's hand still around her, until she was facing the consulting detective.

She planted a soft kiss on his lips, making Sherlock smile and open his eyes.

"We'll be staying in my old room." Sherlock mentioned casually.

A smile spread on Molly's face, she knew he was trying to get her mind off of things that worried her, "Will I find porn under the mattress?"

It took Sherlock few seconds to respond, since he was already falling back asleep, "That is the worst possible place to hide things you don't want your parents to hide."

"So, where did you hide things you didn't want them to find?"

"In Mycroft's room."

Soft, regular breathing was a sign Sherlock fell back asleep. It happened rarely that he managed to find sleep before her and every time he did Molly loved to watch him sleep. He looked peaceful and she longed to see him with that serene expression when he was awake as well.

Molly snuggled closer to her partner, inhaling the scent she came to identify as his, and sighed in content.

Her eyes started to close when she mumbled, "I'm not shagging you in your childhood home with your parents and brother there."

The silence fell over the dark room, the only sound was regular breathing of two occupants and soft rustling of sheets as Sherlock pulled his beloved closer.

The silence that was moments later interrupted with a sleepy, "We'll see about that." Coming from the world's only consulting detective.

Molly kissed his chest, right above his beating heart before leaning her ear to the spot. She loved sleeping like this, listening to muffled thumps. It gave her comfort and a sense of peace she rarely felt.

The sun already started to rise when Molly Hooper finally fell asleep. Nestled safely in Sherlock Holmes' arms.

* * *

It was around nine in the morning when the sound of voices in the kitchen woke up the sleeping pathologist. She stretched and several times felt the right side of the bed looking for the warm body she was used to find there next to her. But Sherlock wasn't there, all that was left were warm sheets and his scent.

Molly yawned and sat up, letting the thick cover pool around her, seconds before the bedroom door opened and a blonde woman peeked inside and grinned.

"Rise and shine, sleepyhead. Breakfast is already on the table."

Molly looked towards her friend in shock, "Mary? What are you doing here?"

"Change of plans." The pregnant woman answered and left the room, closing the door behind her, leaving still half asleep Molly trying to understand what was going on.

Instantly she threw the cover of her feet and got out of bed, momentarily shivering because of the chill, before she put on her dressing gown and thick fuzzy slippers. Walking around the bed Molly yanked the door open and walked to the kitchen. The mouthwatering smell confirmed what Mary said previously, breakfast was already on the table.

"Sorry about this Molly." John said as she sat at the table, "Mary and I altered our plans a bit after discussing it in details last night."

"You aren't coming with us to visit Sherlock's parents?" was the first thing that crossed Molly's mind and she just had to ask. She was looking forward to this years Christmas and the fact she would spend it in the company of her closest and dearest friends. But if John and Mary for some reason decided not to come along then it wouldn't be the same.

"Goodness, no." Mary answered with a grin, "I wouldn't miss meeting Sherlock's parents for the world."

The consulting detective on her right lowered his cup of coffee to glare at the grinning blonde woman. As usual that only caused Mary to send him a sweet smile before she focused back on his girlfriend who was eyeing the Nutella on the table in front of Mary's plate with interest. It wasn't the usual choice for breakfast in 221B Baker Street but in the last month Mary craved it like crazy.

"May I?" Molly asked politely and was handed the jar.

John gasped and looked at his wife in shock, "When I took it you threatened to shoot me."

Mary shrugged, "You took it, Molly asked politely."

Molly giggled before returning on the topic, "So if you are coming along what is this change of plans?"

"Ah, yes…" John decided to forget the incident with the delicious hazelnut chocolate spread, after all his wife right, he did take it without checking with her that one time and emptied the jar, so instead explained to the confused pathologist, "We initially planed to go with a train but Mary and I thought it would be more comfortable for all of us to go with out car. The trunk is large enough for everyone's bags and we don't have to worry about being late for the train and missing it."

Sherlock scoffed, "That would never happen. Also it would be better for Mary to travel in a train since her bladder is now being assaulted by the baby and she needs to empty it more often then before." At his words John lowered his toast back on the plate and Mary stopped chewing for a moment before she shrugged and continued. He was right after all.

"We can always top at Services or petrol stations." Molly commented, "Why are you insisting we go with a train?" she asked Sherlock.

"Because that way Mycroft won't try and invite himself to come with us."

Molly and Mary giggled and John merely shook his head at his friend's bizarre excuse. Like his brother who was the British government would willingly spend several hours in a car with four other people. It was more likely that Mycroft would travel alone or have a driver drive him to his parent's house and then return to London.

"So car it is." Molly said finally, before she licked the sweet spread from her fingers, "When are we leaving?"

"Before lunch." John answered.

Mary grinned, "That way we can stop to grab a bite at this amazing place just out of London. They make this incredible mini Quiches that I would kill for." When silence followed her statement the pregnant woman smiled, "Anyone against that suggestion?"

"Mary… Love… we are far too frightened of you to complain." John responded with a cheeky grin.

"Because of my past or because of the raging hormones due to the pregnancy?"

"Your past." John answered instantly, "Definitely your past."

Sherlock nodded in silent agreement before standing up from the table and going to the bedroom to send a text message.

* * *

Molly pulled her jacket closer as she walked next to Sherlock towards the doors of the lovely red house.

When the car with four passengers stopped in front of the short stone fence she didn't manage to stop herself from gaping open-mouthed at the Holmes home. It didn't look anything like she imagined it and Sherlock always avoided talking about it.

They were few steps away from the wooden door when they opened and an older woman with a wide smile stepped out to greet them.

She could hear Mary whispering, "What?" and snickering behind her and bit her cheek to stop the wide grin that threatened to appear. She agreed with the blonde woman completely.

"Sherlock, dear! I'm so glad you agreed to join us this year." Wanda Holmes hugged her younger son, ignoring his mutterings about not exactly having a choice. She pulled back, her hands gripping his forearms, and took a good long look at him. She always did that to both of her sons, only Sherlock accepted it with much more grace then Mycroft.

"I'm fine mummy." He right away tried to calm her; since he was aware she knew about him getting shot, "Shell we move this inside. It's chilly out here."

As everyone was following Mrs. Holmes inside they also had the opportunity to see more of Holmes home. It was strange for Molly, Mary and John to imagine this house was where Sherlock and Mycroft grew up. Both brother were usually seen as cold and detached, and their childhood home was everything but.

Warm colors and odd souvenirs were everywhere. Mary poked Molly's arm and pointed towards the photo on the wall in the hallway as they walked pass it. It was a photography of a young boy with curly hair and a large brown dog next to him, both covered in mud but looking rather pleased with themselves.

They all entered the kitchen that already had two people in it. Mycroft arrived before them and was already sitting at the table and frowning at the cutting board with potatoes on it in front of him. He would rather if there was a plate with a cake in its place.

The other man was older and looked at the group as they stepped inside.

"It's good to have a full house again." He commented to his wife who just nodded, "You are looking good son."

"Yes, he is." Wanda commented before Sherlock managed to say anything, "This lovely girlfriend of his is to be credited for that, I'm sure."

"Yes. Molly is making sure my recovery goes well, no matter how hard I'm making it for her." Sherlock answered honestly, ignoring his brothers groan of disgust, "You have already met John, or at least saw him briefly, and this is his wife Mary." He introduced everyone briefly.

Mr. Holmes smiled and Molly instantly saw Sherlock smile in it. Despite not looking too similar to his parents there were some small details that she recognized right away, after all it were those small things that she loved about Sherlock Holmes.

"Oh, you are terrible at introductions." Mrs. Holmes said, "Come, let's all go in the sitting room and do it properly." She led everyone out of the small kitchen.

"Should I make tea?" Sherlock asked.

John and Molly turned and looked at him in shock. Never before did the world's only consulting detective willingly offered to do something. They honestly didn't know what to think. If it was anyone else they would simply conclude he was trying to suck up to his mother but this was Sherlock Holmes. The man who threw his parents out of his flat after John came to see him. He wasn't exactly well known for his manners.

"No, no. That's quite alright dead." His mother answered, "I'll do it. I need to check the turkey anyway."

"I'll give you a hand." Sherlock offered and earned himself a smile from his mother.

"Sucking up, I see." Mycroft commented before exiting the kitchen and following everyone else in the sitting room.

Upon entering the cozy room he found his father in a debate with John Watson about advantages of raising children away from the city noise and pollution and two women looking at numerous photos and smiling.

It was seconds later that Molly took a book from a tall shelf and muttered, "Wow…" while looking at the title. Mary leaned to see what surprised her and was equally impressed.

"Ah, I see you found it." Mrs. Holmes said entering a platter with tea cups.

"You wrote this?" Molly asked, holding a rather thick book titled 'The dynamics of combustion'.

"Oh, it was just something that fascinated me while I was in school. That was years ago, before I had two boys." The older woman answered handing Mary a cup of steaming tea.

"Thank you, Mrs. Holmes."

"Please, call me Wanda." She said with a smile, "Now you all sit down and enjoy your tea while I check again on that turkey."

"Smart, isn't she." Mr. Holmes commented after his wife left the room, "That's what attracted me to her. That and the fact she was smoking hot. Still is."

Mycroft groaned and left the room again. He didn't want to hear about this. Instead he went to the kitchen in hope of getting a sample of the biscuits. It was better than getting out to smoke like Sherlock was and risk getting caught by mummy.

But Sherlock wasn't outside. The moment Mycroft left the sitting room Sherlock stepped inside and called John, "I need to talk to you about something." He clarified.

"Ah, a Christmas surprise for your Molly." His father said with a smile and Molly blushed, watching Sherlock's reaction with the corner of her eye.

As expected he became flustered but didn't say anything. The reaction caused Mary to snicker before she took a seat on one of several comfortable armchairs and took a big sip of her tea. Molly followed soon after and the two women spent several minutes talking to the head of Holmes family who revealed to them some of the family history and threw in a few anecdotes about the boys.

At the same time in the kitchen Mrs. Holmes and her older son already fell under the influence of the compound Sherlock had secretly poured into the tea kettle.

To say John was angry when they stepped inside the sitting room and saw three people out cold, one of them being in last trimester, would be an understatement.

"What is a matter with you?! You drugged my wife! You drugged Molly! And you drugged your parents!"

"Aren't going to scowl me for drugging Mycroft?" Sherlock asked with a smug, one that John Watson wanted to wipe from his face. But instead he just grumbled something the consulting detective didn't understand.

"Now what?" he eventually asked.

"Now we get what Magnussen wants." Sherlock said before leaving John alone in the sitting room.

The doctor took a blanket from the back of an empty armchair and covered his wife. He wished there were more so he could do the same for everyone else but that was the only one in the room and a pregnant woman usually has the precedence.

When he walked out of the room Sherlock was walking towards the front door with a laptop under his arm. He quickly followed his friend, contemplating if he should somehow get Sherlock to seek professional help before he did something really wrong and destructive.

He had a feeling it was a bit too late for that.

"Our ride is here." John muttered as he saw a chopper landing on the field.

"Yes." Sherlock answered before stopping and looking at his friend, "Did you bring your gun?"

"What, at your parent's house? Of course, it's completely normal to do something like that."

"John, now it's not the time to be sarcastic."

The retired army doctor groaned, "It's in my jacket pocket. I'm not stupid. Mary learned from Molly you had a plan and told me what she knew. Which wasn't much. What are you doing with that laptop? Is that Mycroft's work laptop? I remember it was on the seat the last time I got kidnapped by him and he took it before I even managed to touch it to move it out of the way so I wouldn't sit on it."

"I'll be making a trade." was the only thing Sherlock said before they arrived close to the chopper and the noise made it impossible for them to understand each other.

* * *

An empty room.

Sherlock closed his eyes and bowed his head. It was all over now. He ran out of options. Only one remained.

"I don't understand." John commented, eyeing the single chair in the sterile white room.

"You should put that on a t-shirt." Magnussen said with a small smile before mockingly explaining, "Your friend believed there were actual files hidden somewhere under Appledore. Physical evidence of the pasts so many people tried to hide. But there are no vaults filled with dusty papers. It's all in here." He pointed to his head, "My very own Mind palace."

John's eyes widened before he turned towards Sherlock to get confirmation. When his friend nodded silently he finally understood what it meant.

"I never needed it, you know. Evidence." Magnussen said before he took off his glasses and wiping them off. He was prolonging the inevitable and they all knew it, "All it takes is to plant a seed of doubt and people will start to question the truth. No one knows that better then Sherlock Holmes. There won't be any evidence of tonight events either but I will know. And I will make sure the public knows too."

"Knows what?" John asked seconds before a sound of a helicopter approaching the house could be heard.

"Sherlock Holmes, world's only consulting detective, in a possession of a stolen laptop containing government secrets that he then tried to sell it to a newspaper magnate." Charles Augustus Magnussen was enjoying himself, "I think we'll post the photo with that ugly hat with the article."

"Sherlock, do something." John whispered to his friend.

"There is nothing to do, John." The consulting detective answered.

"No, there isn't. All you can do now is leave my house and await your transportation. Don't forget to take that laptop with you. I don't want it to seem like it was ever in my possession. I wonder where they will take you… Strictly to make the article as accurate as possible."

"Yes, because you insist on only printing the truth." The retired army doctor muttered as he followed Sherlock down the stairs and through the large glass doors to a raised stone patio.

"No. What I print becomes the truth." Magnussen mocked before he turned towards the helicopter that was now in sight of the three men. He couldn't see inside the cockpit but he had no doubt Mycroft Holmes was there. After all the man's primary pressure point was his younger brother.

Shadows moved on either side of a patio and moments later solders dressed in black appeared, the laser pointers on their rifles paining dots on the three of them.

"Sherlock Holmes and John Watson! Step away from the man and approach the steps!" Mycroft's booming voice suddenly pierced the night as he shouted in a loudspeaker.

"You should have known better then to go against me, Mr. Holmes. But as usually you just had to be a hero."

Sherlock snarled at him, "Obviously you didn't do your research about me as thoroughly as you believed. I was never a hero. I'm a high-functioning sociopath."

Seconds later a gunshot sounded and John stepped back from Magnussen before the man's body even hit the ground. Sherlock followed suit and looked in shock at the dead blackmailer in front of him. Instantly he looked in the direction of the forest that surrounded the large glass house and stepped in that direction.

But the armed men that were between his position and the trees cut him off, their weapons still raised and pointed at him and John.

The helicopter turned around and started to fly in the direction the shot came from but no one really expected them to be able to see anything in the dense foliage and with no real searchlights, but only two front ones.

Sherlock and John were escorted on the lawn and searched, the gun in John's possession and the laptop in Sherlock's were seized, and they were instructed not to move as they waited for the helicopter to return. That was when John finally found his voice again.

"What happened tonight? That was a part of your plan?" he whispered to the consulting detective.

"My plan was to do it myself if necessary." Sherlock responded and John's head snapped in his direction. He couldn't believe he just heard that.

"You would really do such a thing to Molly?"

"I made a vow to be there for you and Mary."

"You also made a promise to Molly. And since she's the one you are shagging that one should be more important." When Sherlock looked at him strangely he added, "The person you love should always be your priority. And that is Molly, isn't it?"

Sherlock nodded before responding, "It is."


	10. Chapter 10: Christmas calm

**For NiceNipps.**

* * *

When Sherlock entered his childhood home, followed closely by John who was concerned for his wife and child, they found everyone gathered in the sitting room. The drug obviously stopped working just as expected. But they all looked angry. Which was also to be expected.

Mary stood up first and rushed to hug her husband.

"I was so worried when I woke up and you were gone. Are you alright?" she asked but didn't wait for an answer before she punched Sherlock in the arm.

"Was that really necessary?" the consulting detective asked, rubbing his hand over the spot where she punched him. She was much stronger then one would think.

"That and so much more." Mommy Holmes said seriously and Sherlock flinched. He knew what was coming.

But before she managed to start her tirade the doors to the room opened and Mycroft walked in, carrying his laptop and then unceremoniously dropped it on the coffee table. Everyone flinched when the device banged on the wood loudly and John frowned.

That was the laptop he was extremely possessive of, acting like it was the most important thing in the world. Well, for a man that was the British government it probably was. God knows what kind of information was stored on it.

And Sherlock stole it took it to Magnussen's house.

The retired army doctor knew the consequences won't be pretty.

"Mycroft?" Timothy Holmes called his son's name, not understanding what was going on. No one really told them anything.

"What were you thinking, Sherlock? Are you trying to ruin my career and your life at the same time? Is that it?" the older Holmes brother wasn't even trying to hide his anger behind a mask of indifference he wore most of the time.

"Relax, Mycroft." Sherlock said like it was no big deal and his brother huffed.

"Relax?!" Mycroft completely lost his composure and shouted, making everyone jump.

"Now, Now… Mike. There is no reason for you to yell." Wanda tried to calm her older son but it wasn't working this time.

"Mommy, Sherlock is facing treason charges."

"For what?" Sherlock asked with a frown, "For a laptop full of Molly's researches, university papers and my all 243 analysis of types of tobacco ash? I honestly doubt those are state secrets, Mycroft."

"What?" the British Government was utterly confused.

"Your laptop never left the house. I'm not an idiot."

"I'm not completely certain about that." John muttered and Mary squeezed his arm to stop herself from laughing.

Mycroft took a deep breath, "Then where is it?"

"Upstairs in my room. In the drawer." Sherlock answered and his brother walked past him to go and retrieve his laptop when Sherlock added, "Under Molly's underwear."

Those words made Mycroft stop and turn back towards his brother, his eyes narrowing. He was not amused. No one, not even his brother, had the right to make him look like a fool.

Molly rolled her eyes at the siblings, "I'll go and get it." She volunteered.

"Thank you Miss Hooper." Mycroft said with a tight smile, "I'm afraid I have to accompany you."

"Want to get a glimpse of woman's knickers, brother?" Sherlock mocked him with a wide grin that vanished the moment Molly stopped in front of him and gave him a serious look, "Sorry."

"This isn't over Sherlock. I agreed to help you but there are some lines that need to be drawn. You drugged me. You drugged your parents. You drugged a pregnant woman. If you think you'll get away with this with only a verbal warning you are solemnly mistaken."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes, "Like you could ever resist me." he mocked.

Molly gave him a small smile and glanced towards Mary before calmly asking, "Who said anything about me resisting you?"

When Molly and Mycroft left the sitting room to retrieve the real laptop containing government secrets and whatnot Sherlock turned towards the other occupants. None of them looked happy.

His mother spoke for everyone when she said, "There are some things a simply sorry can't fix." After everyone nodded, even John who was with him the whole time, that traitor, she added, "Only way you can redeem yourself in my eyes are grandchildren."

Mary snickered and Sherlock threw her a dirty look before pointing out to his mother, "Mycroft is older. Why aren't you bothering him?"

"Because, Sherlock dear, your brother is more likely to scare a woman away than have her agree on a date. Girls like Molly are rare, I hope you know what."

Sherlock nodded, "I do know."

He knew his mother was right. Any other woman would have run away screaming a long time ago if he treated her the way he treated Molly in the past. But those times were now behind him. He made a point to prove to Molly Hooper every single day just how much she mattered to him.

* * *

That night, after everyone else retreated in their rooms, Mycroft Holmes stayed in the sitting room a bit longer. He was on the phone with Anthea, getting newest updates about a mission in Middle East. By the time he disconnected, not even ten minutes after others left to get some sleep, he was rather tired and was looking forward to a good night sleep in his old bed.

Obviously it wasn't as comfortable as the one he currently owned, the mattress has always been lumpy, but a tiny sentimental part of him missed his old room. Even the things Sherlock hid in it to ensure their mother doesn't found them. And if she did she would naturally believe they belonged to her older son.

He just passed his brother's old room when a loud thud startled him and made him pause. It sounded like someone fell out of the bed. He frowned in disgust.

Only his brother would have intercourse in their parent's house with mommy being just down the hallway.

But the sudden shout confused him, "Really, Molly? You believe this is amusing? It's not! Now take that thing off!"

Seconds later similar cry of shock came from the guest room right opposite of it, "Why would you do something like this? I know you are punishing me for today but I honestly had no idea the git was going to drug everyone! Mary! Love, please take that shirt off!"

Doors behind Mycroft opened and Mr. And Mrs. Holmes stepped in the hallway, both were still awake when the shouting started and wanted to know what was going on.

"No." Molly's voice was heard next, followed shortly by Mary's who informed her husband she had every intention to sleep in this rather comfortable shirt, despite it being a bit snug.

When the words, "Honestly, I don't understand how Sherlock can breathe in this thing." came from the guest room Mycroft frowned once more.

"Oh dear." He heard his father mutter, "It seems the girls have-"

"Decided to sleep in men's shirts." His mother finished the sentence, like she always did.

"I will not sleep next to you while you wear John's shirt!" Sherlock protested behind closed doors but in vain.

"You drugged me!"

"It was for a case! You said you would trust me!"

"Oh, I trust that you would know the right dose to drug me!"

Mycroft knocked on his brother's bedroom door, "There are people who are trying to sleep, Sherlock."

Suddenly the door behind him opened and Mary Watson exited the room, dressed in a fluffy dressing gown, wearing Sherlock's dark red shirt in her hand. She looked at Mycroft who merely took a step aside to allow her to knock and enter the room seconds later.

"I was promised a massage for a month if I get this out of his sight. So, thank you."

"Molly, give her John's shirt." Sherlock demanded.

But Molly Hooper wasn't baulking, "No."

"Molly, give her the shirt and I'll…"

"And you'll what?" Mycroft couldn't see a grin on the pathologist face but he could very well hear the amusement in her voice.

"I'll marry you." Sherlock's answer was followed by two gasps and a groan from Mycroft.

"Sherlock Holmes! That is no way to propose!" Wanda yelled from the end of the hallway.

At his words even John walked in the hallway and shook his head. His friend really was a git.

* * *

It was little after 4 in the morning the doors of the sitting room opened again and four people entered, with a sole intention of trying to figure out what happened the previous evening.

"Let me start by saying it wasn't me." Mary said, interrupting the silence, as they all took a seat on different couches and armchairs.

Sherlock, who was lying on a couch under the window, in his well known position with hands under his chin, hummed in what could be an agreement.

Molly nodded, confirming Mary's words, "After Mycroft called for backup and left we remained right here in the whole time. Only time anyone left the room was when Wanda went to make tea for us all. And I doubt she has a teleporter hidden in the kitchen."

"I don't know, Molly. It's possible." Mary said with a smile, "She certainly is smart enough."

Sherlock snorted and was instantly hit in the leg by a pregnant woman that sat on the comfortable armchair near him.

"I'm merely pointing out you are giving my mother too much credit." Sherlock deadpanned.

"And I'm pointing out you aren't giving her enough credit. The woman is really smart. Have you read the book she wrote?" Mary snapped back.

"We are getting of the subject here." John tried to calm the situation.

Mary was the first to respond, "Sorry, dear. But she is brilliant and the first person who says otherwise will be whacked with her book."

"Anyone can write a book." Sherlock mumbled.

"I'm sorry. Have I missed the fascinating novel written by the world's only consulting detective?" Mary asked and Molly snickered, which earned her a glare from her partner.

"Magnussen is dead." John suddenly said, "Someone killed him and we don't know who."

"He must have made a lot of enemies." Molly pointed out, "Someone he was blackmailing got fed up, perhaps."

"It's possible. Right now I don't have any clues, no obvious suspects." Sherlock lied back down again, "Maybe I'll leave this one to Mycroft and just enjoy the holidays."

John looked at him, "Are you high?" he asked seriously.

"Molly agreed to marry me." he simply said.

In response three people gasped. Both John and Mary looked Molly who appeared just a shocked by that statement as they were.

"I did no such thing!" she instantly corrected him.

"Yes you did. I asked and you didn't say 'no'." Sherlock pointed out with a small grin.

"That doesn't mean I said 'yes'. And what about you being married to your work and all that?" she wasn't amused at all. Mary on the other hand was.

"Can we talk about it later?" Sherlock suddenly asked, "If I already have to get all sentimental I want to do it without witnesses."

Mary leaned towards her husband and stage whispered, "He's hoping for some celebration sex afterwards and we are in the way."

"I believe you are right, dear." John responded in the same way.

* * *

Molly loved winter; she loved when snow covered everything with a soft white blanket. But it rarely happened in London. She wasn't sure when was the last there they had a white Christmas.

So when she woke up next morning, after sleeping only several hours thanks to the long conversation the two couples had in the middle of the night, the sight of pure whiteness made the tiredness go away. She already made plans of stuffing some of it in the back of Sherlock's shirt.

And she would have every right to do so. She huffed slightly while washing her teeth. The idiot proposed to her in the most unromantic way there was.

Not that she expected romance from a man who believed that going on a crime scene where the victim is decapitated is a perfectly acceptable date. She knew what she was getting herself into when she agreed on a relationship.

And also, that doesn't even count as a real proposal. She doubted he was serious. It was all brought by the fact she refused to take off John's plaid shirt and he was trying to persuade her by all means necessary.

Molly sighed and exited the bathroom before moving back to Sherlock's childhood bedroom. Best not to ponder about it too much.

She put on jeans and a large colorful jumper before going downstairs for breakfast. On the way she almost bumped into Mycroft who was on the phone with his assistant. She could hear him telling Anthea to enjoy Christmas and smiled. So much about Mycroft Holmes not caring about anyone.

Breakfast was simple; toast, eggs, bacon and sausages. And best of all they all finished rather fast and moved to the sitting room, leaving the dishes in the sink. Molly tried to wash them but was shooed away by Mrs. Holmes who insisted they can wait. The gifts had to come first. The older woman was so excited to have a full house again for the holiday.

"I have to admit I'm shocked." John said, watching as Molly clasped her new necklace around her neck, "You actually aren't completely inept in buying gifts."

Sherlock scoffed, "I have many talents. You of all people should know that, John. After all we were flat mates for several years."

"Yes, but you actually went with something nice rather then something you may have seen more fitting. Like an anatomically correct heart pendant."

"I'm glad you picked this one." Molly said with a wide smile as she ran her fingers over the sunflower shaped pendant, "How did you know sunflowers are my favorites?"

Sherlock merely gave her his patented look and she giggled. Of course, because he's Sherlock Holmes and he knows things.

In exchange she had gifted him an oddly shaped piece of amber that had a bee trapped in it. Needless to say he was happy with it and right away started to talk about the properties of amber and would have continued with his lecture if his mother hadn't stopped him.

"I want to see what my boys got for us this year. I presume you sat together and discussed it as adults."

"Of course." Mycroft said and Sherlock nodded silently, for once agreeing with his brother.

The truth was they did agree of the gift but it was Anthea who made all the arrangements, but that way only because she was so much better at it then the Holmes brothers. So thanks to a very capable PA who took every single assignment she gets like it was a matter of national importance Mr. And Mrs. Holmes would be spending two weeks in France. And would therefore miss the New Years Eve party Molly and Mary decided to organize in 221b Baker Street.

Without asking Sherlock if he has anything against it, of course.

But after checking the dates Wanda sadly had to decline the invitation, their flight was on the 29th and they would spend New Year in Paris. But she made sure to confirm they would be there next year.

Mycroft couldn't come either. He had previous engagements. Sherlock wanted to comment on it but Molly took his hand before he even opened his mouth. Right away he smiled at her, she knew exactly what he was about to do.

"So it will be just us, Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade." Mary said with a smile, "I'm really looking forward to it. I have a feeling it's going to a great start in the new year."


	11. Chapter 11: New Year's storm

Mrs. Hudson just exited her flat when the front doors of the building opened and a couple walked in. She instantly smiled widely at her former tenant and his lovely wife. She just loved when Mary and John came to visit Sherlock. It meant he wouldn't do anything destructive in the upper flat during that time because he wasn't bored when he had company.

"Evening, Mrs. Hudson." Mary said with a smile and killed the older woman's cheek.

"Oh, I'm so glad you decided to organize this little get together. He shouldn't be alone tonight."  
John frowned, "Alone? Isn't Molly upstairs with him?"

The older woman shook her head, "I'm afraid not. She phoned him earlier, said she was called to work."

Mary, who was the last going up the stairs, sighed, "Why couldn't anyone else do it tonight?"

"Because they are used to have Molly work at odd hours and holidays. They figured she lives alone and has no family so she doesn't have anything better to do." Three of them heard Sherlock's voice even before entering the flat.

He consulting detective was pacing the length of the sitting room, still irritated by the news. Those imbeciles need to learn Molly Hooper isn't someone they should just take advantage of because it suits them and because she is willing to help.

Sherlock paused his pacing when he realized he did the same thing for years but then he huffed and continued. He was performing experiments in his free time and required Molly's assistance while she was already in the lab. Those fools are paid to do their jobs and they have Molly do it for them because the timing doesn't suit them.

His phone ringed and Sherlock reached for it right away. Looking down on the screen he smiled, as expected it was Mycroft.

"Well?" he asked without greeting his older sibling.

"_Good evening to you, too."_ Mycroft said sarcastically.

"Did you do it?" Sherlock asked after sighing, his brother was wasting his time.

Unknowingly to him Mycroft rolled his eyes, _"Of course I did. Doctor Davidson is on his way to Saint Bartholomew as we speak. I even took the liberty of sending a car to pick up Molly Hooper and drive her to Baker Street. Will that be all?"_ the sarcasm was dripping from the question added in the end.

"Yes." Sherlock answered before adding, "Thank you, Mycroft."

He had a feeling his tongue would fall out for saying those words but it was for a good cause. His brother's connections paid out this time quite well.

"What was that?" John asked as Sherlock disconnected the call and placed his cell phone back on the table.

"That was Mycroft." The consulting detective answered.

Mary Watson rolled her eyes as she took a seat on the couch, "No shit, Sherlock. What just happened?"

"I asked Mycroft to find out why Molly suddenly had to work for New Year's Eve when she obviously had a day off." Sherlock explained shortly before walking to the kitchen.

Mary sighed. Sherlock either shared more information then anyone wanted or you had to pull them out of him with pliers. It all depended on the situation and how much you actually wanted to know. Either way it was irritating.

"Are we to presume Molly is coming after all?" Mary asked before adding, "And get me something sweet!"

Seconds later Sherlock came to the sitting room carrying a plate with a piece of chocolate cake, "I hope this will do. Although you shouldn't eat sweets before diner."

Mary didn't comment on his taunt. She just took the plate from him and right away dig in the delicious desert.

"So Sherlock, is Molly coming?" Mrs. Hudson asked with a smile on her face. She loved the pathologist and the fact she made Sherlock happy.

"Yes. The idiot that supposed to work tonight and tried to get out of it will be starting his shift shortly and transportation is already waiting for Molly at Barts. She won't be long now."

"So we only need to wait for her since Greg won't be coming tonight." John said, lounging in his old armchair.

Sherlock looked at his friend and frowned, "Who?"

* * *

When Molly stepped into the upper floor flat of 221B Baker Street she found John and Sherlock deeply focused in a tense game of Operation. One that John was obviously winning.

"You made a mistake when you challenged a doctor." John taunted his friend and Molly smiled. One would think Sherlock would have learned by now after she beat him several times already.

But instead of answering Sherlock glanced towards the couch where Mary was sitting and asked, "What's wrong Mary?"

John instantly turned towards his wife, afraid there might be something wrong with the baby, and jumped when a BEEP sounded in the room. He sent a glare in Sherlock's direction before looking down on the game between them. The nose was illuminated. He lost.

"You cheated." He accused and Sherlock merely smiled.

"You should know by now he doesn't like to lose, John." Mrs. Hudson's voice was heard from the kitchen and Molly realized the landlady was the only one preparing dinner. So she lowered her bag on the floor next to the couch and went to help her out.

"Why am I not getting a 'thank you' for getting you out from work where you shouldn't have been tonight anyway?" Sherlock called after Molly.

She smiled and peeked back in the sitting room, "Because Mycroft did all the work. How did you get him to do it anyway? I thought he was still not speaking to you after what happened for Christmas."

Sherlock shrugged, "I agreed not to interfere in the investigation of who killed Magnussen and that was it."

"Do you know who it was? Is that why you agreed?" Mary asked and the consulting detective shook his head, a frown on his face.

"No, I don't. He made so many enemies narrowing down the list of potential shooters will not be easy. Not to mention most of people he blackmailed were wealthy enough to hire someone. I don't know if it would ever be solved."

Mary nodded absently, she knew Sherlock was right. That man blackmailed too many people; it was only a matter of time until someone decided he wasn't willing to live under his thumb anymore. She sure knew that feeling.

"Need any help in the kitchen?" she eventually asked and both Molly and Mrs. Hudson answered she should remain sitting where she is.

"Those two on the other hand could set up the table." Mrs. Hudson stepped in the sitting room and sent the two grown men a look they were all too familiar with after living in Baker Street for years, "And Sherlock, didn't you said you would clean up the mess from that table so we can eat in here?"

Sherlock turned towards the table on his left and noticed several stacks of paper, a laptop, few books he still hasn't returned on the shelves they came from and a roll of decorative paper he used to wrap Molly's Christmas gift. He sighed.

Mrs. Hudson shook her head, "Fine, we will eat in the kitchen then."

* * *

Mary was moaning during dinner, she loved every single dish. It was delicious and she didn't have to cook herself, so that made the food even better. Molly would smile from time to time after Sherlock frowned but no one said a single word.

"I know I shouldn't eat this much but Mrs. Hudson this is the most delicious thing I have ever eat." She said as she added a bit more of the side dish on her plate. She had no idea what it was but it was so good. And a bit greasy.

"Oh, thank you dear, but I just followed Molly's receipt. She made them before I just finished the dish. What did you said it was called again?" Mrs. Hudson turned towards the pathologist who just took a mouthful of salad and had a trouble swallowing with everyone looking at her.

"Um… I had a mate in uni who taught me how to make it. Usually she would buy them but she couldn't find any in the shops around London. It's sort of a dried flatbread that you just break into smaller pieces, pour boiling salted water over it, drain and mix into the fat left after meat was finished baking and just fry it briefly in the oven. Ana called the dish mlinci."

Sherlock's head snapped and he turned towards Molly. Everyone noticed the sudden reaction. But John was first to react.

"Everything alright, Sherlock?" he asked.

The consulting detective nodded. He didn't feel like talking about it at the dinner table. Or in general really. No one knew all the details about what happened those last few months he spent dismantling Moriarty's network. Molly knew some of it because she has seen the scars but she didn't know everything. She didn't know about the cold nights he spent sleeping in storage sheds, about the time he was chased and the only way to run was over a still existing mine field that was one of the reminders of the war that ended two decades ago, Molly had no idea that the dish she and Mrs. Hudson prepared was the last thing he ate before he was caught.

He didn't even realize that was the same food, it didn't taste the same as it did then. It was probably in his head but tonight everything seemed to taste so much better.

Must be the company.

* * *

The TV was on, showing one of the New Year concerts, but no one really paid much attention to it. They were all sitting around and talking about the new addition to their strange little family. Mary was absolutely glowing.

"And just to think it feels like yesterday that we found out about the baby." She smiled to her husband.

"I know, I can still vividly remember the moment when Sherlock figured it out and informed us." He confirmed.

Sherlock rolled his eyes, "I didn't 'figured it out', I deduced it."

"And you did a good job with it." John smiled, he knew his friend didn't like when his deductions were called by any other name. Which made it more fun.

"The countdown is starting." Molly suddenly said, noticing the numbers on the screed.

Everyone stood up and turned to the TV in the corner but then the image froze for a moment and stated to flicker and skip. Sherlock frowned when an outline of a person appeared behind the distortion but his eyes widened the moment the snow cleared and he came face to face with Jim Moriarty.

"Did you miss me?... Did you miss me?... Did you miss me?..." he dead criminal kept repeating.

"Sherlock…" Molly mumbled and he glanced at his partner. She was frightened, and for a good reason.

The sound of the phone ringing made everyone jump and Sherlock grabbed the device from the table. The name on the screen said the caller was Mycroft.

"What is doing on?! Why is Moriarty on my TV?"

"_Not just on yours, brother dear."_ Mycroft answered.

"What?"

"_The image of Jim Moriarty appeared on every single screen in UK. I don't know how but he is back. I need you to-"_

"I'll take the case." Sherlock interrupted him, "But I'll need information. Like from where he image originated, to accomplish this he would need-"

"_I am already assigning men to track down the signal. I'll inform you once we get the information."_

Sherlock disconnected the call and looked at the faces of those around him, those most important to him. Behind him the program on the TV continued like nothing out of the ordinary happened.

"How is it possible?" Mary was first to find her voice again, "I thought he was dead."

"I don't know. But I won't let him harm anyone." Sherlock answered honestly before focusing on Molly, "It might be for the best if you remained in Baker Street for the time being. Safer."

Molly nodded silently, agreeing with Sherlock.

Mary on the other hand somehow managed to find a trace of humor in the whole ordeal, "Sherlock, this isn't one of your strange plans, is it? If you want Molly to move in with you all you needed to do is ask the girl." she turned towards Molly and smiled at her only for her face to instantly show terror as a red dot appeared on the pathologist's forehead.

Before anyone else had a chance to react John tackled Molly who was standing next to him on the floor. And not a seconds too soon because even before their bodies hit the hard ground a sound of glass breaking made everyone else duck as well.

Mrs. Hudson screamed and Sherlock covered her with his body before looking in Mary's direction. The pregnant woman in the best position, under the table between the windows, out of direct sight of who ever shot at them. He had no idea how she managed to squeeze underneath is such a short time but he was grateful. He didn't want anyone to happen to her or the baby.

"Sherlock." John called his name and the consulting detective turned towards his friend just in time to see Molly crawling in his direction and wrapping her arms around him as much as she could.

And then the phone ringed again.

It was Lestrade.

* * *

Less then tan minutes later the team from New Scotland Yard was in the building across the street, looking for evidence, after someone on the street called the police after witnessing the gunshot. The witnesses couldn't describe the shooter, said they only heard the sound of window breaking and ran into Speedy's that was still open at the time and hosting a small party.

It was no surprise to Sherlock that no evidence of the shooter was found. Who ever he was he was careful. And he made sure they knew who was his target.

He picked up his cell phone again and called Mycroft.

No matter what happens next Molly Hooper needs to be safe.

* * *

**Yes, mlinci is a real dish. It's delicious and I wish I could send every single one of you a package so you can try it.**

**As you may have noticed the story has reached the point where shit is about to hit the fan so grab umbrellas and hold on.**


	12. Chapter 12: Under pressure

**I left a small tribute in this chapter. Wonder if anyone will figure it out.**

* * *

It took Mycroft 30 minutes to arrive at 221B Baker Street in the company of his PA Anthea. On Sherlock's surprise both his brother and the always composed woman looked distressed. Anthea didn't even have her cell phone in her hand like she usually did, it was no where in sight.

If that didn't mean the matter is serious than nothing did.

"Where is doctor Hooper?" was the first thing Mycroft Holmes asked upon entering the ground floor flat that belonged to Mrs. Hudson. The upper flat was now a crime scene.

"In the bathroom, said she needed to wash her face." John answered, his hand firmly around his wife's shoulder.

Mycroft nodded, "That is understandable. I was pleased to hear she was not injured in any way."

Sherlock frowned at his brother's words, "Mycroft, if you continue to talk like that people might mistakenly start thinking you care about her."

"_You_ care about her, Sherlock. That means her well being is important to me." Mycroft responded.

Molly, who just entered Mrs. Hudson's sitting room, smiled, "Thank you, Mycroft."

The British government nodded in her direction just as a beep was heard. Anthea took out her phone from her coat pocket and checked the message that just arrived.

"The safe houses are ready." She said to her superior.

"Safe houses?" John asked, looking from the woman he once thought about inviting for a drink to his own wife and back. He understood that it was necessary but didn't like it one bit.

"The timing is awful." Mary mumbled as she gently caressed her large stomach where her little girl still rested.

"I understand." Mycroft said, "But everyone's safety is now far more important than convenience. Security will be present at all times so if Mrs. Watson goes into labor before this matter is resolved she will have an escort to the hospital where she will be under constant supervision. No one will get in the room unless she herself says so."

Mary smiled at the older Holmes brother, "Thank you."

"There will be no time for packing; the escort will take everyone to designated addresses. Most essential thing will be provided right away and your clothes delivered in a few hours." Anthea kept checking the message that continued arriving.

"Molly and I will be staying in the same house." Sherlock finally spoke and everyone turned towards him, "She was the one the shooter was aiming for. I don't want her out of my sight unless absolutely necessary."

"Already arranged." Anthea said calmly, years she spent as a PA for Mycroft Holmes made her very skilled in not showing any emotions, so she managed to hold back the smile.

She didn't know Sherlock Holmes well but did follow-ups on him for her boss so she was well versed in his personal life. The fact he actually started to care for someone, a woman at that, was quite improvement from the man that spent all his time alone, sometimes under the influence of drugs.

To be honest she spent quite a few years believing Sherlock Holmes was gay.

"Oh, are you planning to move me to a safe house as well?" Mrs. Hudson asked, "You don't have to do that, dear. I planed to go and visit my sister Wendy anyway. She lives in Wokingham. It will be nice to see my niece and nephews again too. One of the boys is a pilot, you know."

Anthea nodded, "Alright."

"Is any of them close to a hospital?" John asked, concerned for his wife and daughter.

He didn't know if it was really Moriarty or someone impersonating the lunatic, but if the impersonator was smart like the real psychopath that placed bombs on people they will have a hard time catching him before Mary goes to labor. She was due in less then a month.

"One is some 20 minutes away from The Lister Hospital. They have private rooms so there should be no problem."

"Thank you." Mary said for both of them.

"There is one that is close to Scotland Yard."

Sherlock nodded, "That one should do."

* * *

The flat where Sherlock and Molly were staying was rather small but neither of them really cared. It wasn't a permanent thing anyway, soon this mess would be over and they would return to Baker Street.

There was another person present in the flat but not exactly in it. It was a genius idea really. The safe house used to be a much larger flat but a part of it was closed off and the only way in was though a door in the pantry that looked like a wall. So unless someone got information on it they would have to search every nook and cranny to find the entrance.

Molly flinched after noticing for the umpteenth time she started to refer 221B Baker Street as her home when she had her own flat just minutes away from Barts. But it was so easy to forget she wasn't a permanent resident of Sherlock's flat. She wondered briefly what he would think about the matter but then chose to ignore it. If he wanted her to live with him he would have told her loud and clear by now, everyone who knew Sherlock Holmes knew he didn't beat around the bush.

Walking in the small bedroom she noticed the subject of her thoughts lying on the bed, dressed in his usual pajama bottoms and a t-shirt, in his well known thinking pose.

Molly smiled and threw her dressing gown over the chair in the corner before walking around the bed to get on her side. Sherlock was insisting his side is the one closest to the door. It was those little things that meant the world to her.

"It's been a week now and still nothing." He complained after feeling the mattress dip slightly and a warm body resting next to him.

"I know. But you have to give them time. Someone who has the skill to emit the video on every single screen in England has to be smart enough to also cover his tracks in the process. But I'm sure Mycroft has experts working on getting the location. No one wants for Moriarty to really be back roaming the shadows."

"There was no body." Sherlock said turning on his side and facing his partner.

Molly swallowed before nodding, "I know. I wanted to do the post-mortem myself, Maybe Mycroft-"

"No. I already asked him. It wasn't his people that collected the body. If there ever was one." Sherlock pulled Molly closer and inhaled the scent of her lemon shampoo she preferred because it neutralized the smell of the morgue.

He could feel her shivering slightly and pulled the cover over both of them. It was January and rather cold. But the shivering didn't seize. Sherlock closed his eyes and pulled her even closer to his body. She was afraid and he felt like a fool for not realizing it right away.

But what Sherlock didn't know, although he suspected, was that Molly Hooper wasn't afraid for herself. She was terrified for him.

"I'll call Mike tomorrow. See how many leave days I've accumulated. There should be quite a lot by now." Molly mumbled.

She was now warm and content, still afraid though, but there was nothing he could do against it. Only thing left to do was bask in the pleasure of being this close to the man she loved.

* * *

A week later the message arrived on the burner phone Mycroft provided for Sherlock. But it didn't come from his brother. It came from John.

Sherlock poked Molly who was sleeping next to him. She merely slapped his hand away and rolled on the other side. Sherlock couldn't help but smile.

It was rather strange for him to feel pleased with himself but he couldn't help it. He could count on the fingers of one hand how many times he told Molly how he felt about her but he made sure to show her far more often. He just hoped Mycroft was smart enough not to have cameras installed in the bedroom.

"Molly." He called her name before softly kissing her shoulder, "I got a text from John."

"Is everything alright?" she mumbled half asleep.

"Mary went into labor. They are getting her in the hospital right now." Sherlock answered and then moved back a bit to give Molly space to turn on her back and look at him with a smile.

"You're going to be an uncle soon, then."

Sherlock scoffed, "Don't be ridiculous, John isn't my brother."

"Uncle Sherlock." Molly said with a wide grin, "Sounds nice, doesn't it?"

"Aunt Molly doesn't sound so bad either."

24 hours later, several hours after Annabel Watson welcomed the world with a loud cry, Sherlock and Molly were getting dressed and preparing to visit the mommy and baby in the hospital.

It took almost an hour of negotiation with Mycroft before it was allowed for them to leave the flat. But the older Holmes brother knew it was better to okay it and sent them with an armed guard then to risk his foolish brother do something stupid. Really, getting so worked up over a crying, drooling mass. He simply didn't understand why people found babies so adorable. And especially not why his brother was so looking forward to see and even hold one.

But just as the guard that resided in the first section of the safe house opened the hidden door to let them pass the burner phone started to ring.

Sherlock frowned. He wasn't expecting any calls unless…

Instantly he took the phone out of his coat pocket and answered, "Yes, Lestrade?"

"_We have a lead, possible location from where the video was posted. A warehouse in the Park Royal. I'll come to pick you up on my way there but I need the address."_ Lestrade didn't waste any time greeting the consulting detective, something Sherlock appreciated.

He explained the guard what was going on and received the green light to give the detective inspector the address of the safe house.

"I'm afraid I won't be able to come with you to see Annabel today." He told Molly who just smiled at him.

"It's alright, I understand and I know Mary will too. Just solve this case and you'll be able to hold her any time you want unless Watson's kick you out from their house for breaking in in the middle of the night."

Molly kissed Sherlock and wished him good luck in finding enough evidence to track down who ever was turning their lives upside-down right now before she left the safe house, escorted by the guard, leaving Sherlock alone to wait for the detective inspector.

Less then ten minutes later Greg Lestrade parked in front of the houses in the street and stepped outside. It looked just like all the others, one wouldn't never suspect there was a flat especially constructed for protection in it. But then again that was the point.

He just hoped for Molly's sake it was better looking then some of the safe houses Scotland Yard had. She was already stuck in close quarters with Sherlock all the time so she might as well be somewhere comfortable and nice.

The front doors opened and Sherlock briskly stepped outside, the strong wind making his pull his coat tighter around himself. By the time he sat in the car his curls were all over the place and detective inspector desperately tried not to laugh and provoke Sherlock in deducing him.

But it didn't work. He snickered and earned a glare before the deduction, "I see you and your wife split up again," came.

* * *

The warehouse didn't look in any bit suspicious on the outside. The inside was a whole different story. There were several metal industrial tables in the middle with long extension cords leading to them. But they were empty; there was not a single piece of electronic equipment left there. Nothing that could be used to track down the person who purchased it.

Only proof that there were indeed computers there were gaps in the dust on the surface of the tables.

"We are definitely in the right place." Sherlock commented as he walked through the enormous space and took note of little details that would hopefully help him put together the bigger picture.

"Oh, I know." Lestrade said back.

Sherlock looked at the detective inspector, "Because you tracked the video feed to this place, I know. But that could have also been a false lead, left intentionally to confuse you. But this place, this is the right place."

"I know." Lestrade repeated.

When Sherlock looked at him again the DI waived at one of his men who pulled the large door just enough to see what was left behind them, attached to the brick way of the warehouse.

Sherlock's eyes widened as he saw Moriarty's face on a large poster, followed by the same message that the psychopath kept repeating on the TV.

He certainly didn't miss the madman.

"There was an identical one on the door on the outside, but the wind ripped it off." Female voice made Sherlock look to his right.

Sally Donovan watched him with interest. She still didn't like him but she had to admit having him back made their job a whole lot easier.

"There are several different set of footsteps in the dust on the ground-" the consulting detective started to speak again but was interrupted when he's phone started to ring. He sighed and took it out of his coat pocket.

Lestrade observed silently as he answered and greeted John Watson. He smiled remembering the message that arrived on his phone early that morning. So he smiled and bumped Sherlock's hand to get his attention, "Send my congratulation to John and Mary."

Sherlock nodded but he was more focused on what John was saying.

"_So when can we expect you and Molly_?" the new father asked.

A frown appeared on Sherlock's face, "I'm in a warehouse in Park Royal, there is a lead about the video feed. Molly and the guard left the safe house right before me and Lestrade. That was over an hour ago." He said looking down on his wristwatch.

"_Sherlock?"_ John sounded concerned, and for a reason too.

"John, she should have already arrived at the hospital."


	13. Chapter 13: Gone with the wind

**Thanks to all who read and reviewed. This is a shorter chapter but I hope you'll like it. Let me know if you find any mistakes I've missed. **

* * *

Sherlock used the key to unlock Molly's flat, the key she didn't even know he had, and let himself in. It was slightly smaller then her previous one, the one he stayed in right after the Fall, but that one was now in use by some poor shmuck that's being cheated on by his fiancé. Molly dropped the lease so she could live with Tom in his flat, surrounded by dull white walls and cheap artwork.

A shame really. He liked Molly's old place.

But right now he didn't have a choice, staying in Baker Street simply wasn't an option. And to think he missed having John around after he returned from the dead.

Ever since the truth about Mary's past came out John has been living in 221B Baker Street, in his old room, again. But it wasn't like before. Sherlock selfishly missed the old John who would buy milk and fetch his phone or hand him the pen. They John did none of those things. No, this John would quietly sit in his old armchair before he suddenly started to rant. It was rather irritating.

What broke the camel's back, so to speak, was when John overreacted to a innocent comment and threatened to shoot Sherlock. The consulting detective came to a conclusion that would be a good time to leave.

And that is how he found himself in Molly Hooper's residence.

Right away Sherlock took off his coat and shoes, leaving them both by the entrance door, and went to the bedroom. He particularly liked when Molly put on clean sheets and they were still crisp and without creases, and today he was in luck. Finally.

With his suit jacket on the back of the chair in the corner of the room and his shirt and trousers neatly folded Sherlock sunk in the lively smelling sheets.

But there was one problem.

They were cold.

Sherlock instantly frowned. He was so used to Molly already being in bed when he sneaked in that he didn't take in consideration that since she has been away working for several hours now her bed would be cold.

And the absence of Molly's warmth made it unwelcome.

So he did the next think he could think off. He stripped off the sheet, and his pants, and wrapped the soft material around himself before going back to the sitting room to wait for his pathologist.

He pondered about a lot of mundane things, a waste of time really, waiting for Molly to return home from Barts. A return that was announced with juggling of keys and the sound of doors unlocking.

"And it's not even my Birthday…" he heard her mutter before she focused again and asked, "Sherlock, not that I mind but why are you here?"

After she made a comment about him being difficult to live with Sherlock's eyes snapped open and he sat up, letting the sheet pool around him, which caused Molly to almost trip over her own feet. A small smile appeared on his face, a smile she didn't noticed on her way to the kitchen.

After a lot of protesting and pointing out the obvious, Sherlock finally admitted why he took off the sheet from the bed and sat on the couch instead of staying in the bedroom, in the bed, like he usually did.

"It was cold without you there."

"We only shared a bed once." She pointed out.

Sherlock rolled his eyes, "That you know of."

It was sometimes later that she kissed him, making his drip the white sheet so he can wrap his hands around her. It was a sensation like no other. None of their kissed were like this one. Those were chaste, meek, awkward. This one was deep and full of emotions.

And they both knew they wouldn't and couldn't stop on just one kiss.

And afterwards, as they lied in the warm bed, Molly's head on Sherlock's chest right over the heart he claimed for so long he didn't have neither said a word. They didn't need to.

They already showed one another everything they needed to know.

"Sherlock?" Lestrade's voice sounded from the distance making Sherlock frown. What was the detective inspector doing in Molly's flat?

"Is he alright?" Donovan asked.

"Sherlock!" Greg yelled, his voice echoing all around them, getting the attention of everyone present. Including the consulting detective.

Sherlock blinked several times and took a shaky breath.

"Lestrade…" he mumbled.

"What happened? One moment you were on the phone with John saying something about arriving and in the next you zoned out completely. Is everything alright?"

"No." Sherlock responded before heading out of the warehouse, the detective inspector on his heels, "Molly meant to go and visit Mary and the baby in the hospital. She and the guard left before you arrived to pick me up and they still haven't arrived."

"Traffic?" Greg tried to think positively.

Sherlock shook his head, "No. Even at this time of the day they shouldn't take longer than 45 minutes. No, no, something must have happened."

"Sir?" they heard Donovan call from behind them.

"How did you learned about this?" Sherlock suddenly asked.

"What?" Lestrade turned towards him.

"About the warehouse?"

"An anonymous tip. A woman said she noticed an expensive car parked in front few times and saw the poster on the door. The damn thing flew away; I have someone looking for it. Hopefully there will be fingerprints on it." Lestrade noticed Sherlock seemed distracted, "What is it?"

"A decoy."

"What?" Sergeant Donovan asked.

"I decoy to get me away from Molly so they can kidnap her!" Sherlock snapped at the woman but for once she didn't feel insulted in the least.

She was among those searching the building opposite of 221B Baker Street right after someone almost killed doctor Hooper. And Sherlock Holmes in front of her right now looks even more upset then he did two weeks ago.

And here she thought he didn't care about anyone but himself.

So much for him being a sociopath.

"Who are you calling?" Lestrade asked, "Molly?"

"Mycroft." Sherlock answered.

"Sir?" Sally asked.

"Big brother… in more then one way."

"Mycroft, Molly and the guard still haven't got to the hospital. I need you to locate that cell phone you gave her."

"_Sherlock, do calm down. An armed guard is accompanying miss Hooper. She is perfectly safe. Safer then doing experiment with you."_ Mycroft tried to calm his brother down, while signaling Anthea to call the guard for a situation update.

"I will not calm down until I talk to Molly and she tells me herself that she is fine."

"_Sherlock…"_ Mycroft wondered off mid-sentence.

"What is it? What's going on?" Sherlock frantically asked his brother.

"_The guard is not responding. Anthea located the car's GPS."_

"Where is it?"

"_Let me handle this, Sherlock."_ Mycroft tried to reason with his younger sibling despite knowing it was in vain. His partner was missing.

"Where?"

"_It's by the Grosvenor canal, near the hospital."_

"I'm on my way." Sherlock said and disconnected before Mycroft managed to say anything else, like don't interfere.

"You have a location?" Lestrade asked.

"Of the car. Yes."

"Let's go. Donovan, you are in charge here."

"Yes sir." His right hand woman responded, "Good luck."

* * *

As they were approaching the seemingly abandoned car Greg pulled out his gun. He wasn't willing to take any chances.

But he didn't need it. The car was empty. No guard anywhere in sight. And no Molly either.

"Her bag is in there." Sherlock said noticing the item that got left behind and reached to open the door but Greg stopped him.

"I need to call in the guys, check everything for prints."

Sherlock shook his head, "No time."

The consulting detecting ignored any further protests and opened the back doors of the car. The small brown leather bag Molly carried on special occasions, ones that didn't require her to drag her bulky knapsack with extra clothes along, was lying on the seat. It looked like she simply forgotten to take it after leaving the car.

But the corner of something was peaking from underneath it.

Sherlock took out a glove he carried with him from his coat pocket and with it took out what he believed was a piece of paper. It wasn't.

"Oh, God." Greg mumbled seeing what his friend was holding.

It was a photograph of Molly, one of countless photos taken on John and Mary's wedding by a photograph that ended getting arrested for attempted murder by Greg himself.

Molly was smiling into the camera, her eyes glistering with mirth. But the beauty that was captured that moment was marred by three angry red letters.

IOU

"Moriarty." Sherlock muttered.

"You think it's him?" Lestrade asked concerned for Molly's safety.

"He's dead. I saw him kill himself. Who ever this is he knows things that only two or three people knew." Sherlock said and turned the photo only to freeze.

On the back of it were words he would never forger. A threat that didn't mean so much to him back then as it did now.

I WILL BURN THE HEART OUT OF YOU


	14. Chapter 14: Smoke screen

**Standard disclaimer stands: I don't own anything and I'm not making any profit with this. I wish I was but I'm not. **

* * *

It took several minutes after she woke up for Molly to open her eyes. Her body just wasn't listening to her. And as a doctor she recognized the symptoms. She had been drugged.

Her memories were hazy. All she knew for sure is that she was on the way to see Mary and the baby. She and the guard Mycroft provided. But they never got to the hospital.

Looking around the room she woke up in Molly noticed she was alone. There was no sign of anyone else being in it recently. A fine layer of dust covered the sparse furniture and was only disturbed on the old wooden floor. There were footsteps leading from and to the door. Someone brought her in and then promptly left her alone again.

Right away Molly did her best to get up but her legs were a bit shaky. The drug was still in her system, at least traces of it were. That was not good. She knew she needed to be lucid to get put of here.

Her first goal was to check her surroundings.

Unfortunately the only window in the room was nailed shut. And even if she somehow managed to remove every single of those rusty nails there was no way she would manage to pull through the bars. Who ever kidnapped her found a perfect location. She was on the first floor of an older house and had a perfect view of a deserted field.

Next stop were the room doors.

Locked.

Molly sighed and sat down on a narrow cot. She knew she shouldn't give up, Sherlock wouldn't want her to give up, but she simply didn't saw any other way out.

The thought of Sherlock finding out she was missing, of frantically trying to find any clue of her whereabouts worried her. She knew how he was like. He would refuse to sleep or eat until she was found and she didn't want him to harm himself that way.

"This is all my fault." She mumbled remembering it was her idea to go and visit Mary and her daughter. Sherlock wasn't against it but he didn't jump at the idea either. If only she listened to Mycroft who initially refused to let them out of the safe house. But no, she had to insist.

Molly shook her head and pulled her knees to her chest, playing her feet on the not so clean mattress on the cot.

No use of crying over spilled milk.

All she could do now is hope Sherlock had something to work with, some little clue that would help him deduce where she was being kept.

Because if anyone can figure this out, if anyone can find her, it's Sherlock Holmes.

It was only few minutes later, although it felt like hours, that the sound of a key turning in a lock made Molly focus back on the situation she found herself in. Someone, most likely her kidnapper, is about to enter the room. She knew that if it was someone who was coming to rescue her that person would call her name, letting her know she was safe.

Right now she had no such comfort.

The man that entered through the door was a complete stranger. She had literally never seen him before in her life.

"Molly Hooper." He said her name with a wide smile, "I had to admit you aren't what I imagined."

"And what did you imagine?" she somehow found the courage to ask.

"Something… more. After all not many women can say they caught the attention of both Jim Moriarty and Sherlock Holmes. But you, a mouse from the morgue, succeeded." A wide smile spread on his face, "So tell me, what is your secret?"

"There is no secret." Molly responded.

"Oh, but there must be something. How else would you have managed to snag two of the smartest men in Britain?"

Molly huffed, "I didn't snag anyone. Moriarty only used me to make first contact with Sherlock, to play with him, to test him."

"Yes, Jim had plans of his own. But from what I heard so did Sherlock. The world's only consulting detective planed to stay alone. Because caring is not an advantage, isn't that what he says? Or used to say, anyway."

"You're going to have to ask him what changed." Molly said as calmly as she managed.

The unknown man nodded, "Oh, I plan to."

"Is that why I'm here? Why you kidnapped me?" Molly started fishing for information.

The unknown man snorted, amusement clearly recognizable on his face, "You are here because I need a smoke screen. And in few days I will have another one. And Sherlock will get far too distracted."

"You are after Sherlock. You and Moriarty." Molly concluded.

She gasped as he approached her and angrily grabbed her arms, only to shake her, "Jim is dead! Sherlock killed him! And for that he will pay!"

"No, Jim Moriarty killed himself!" Molly yelled back, "Sherlock didn't do anything wrong! Moriarty wanted to play and Sherlock had no other choice!"

"You stupid girl." he muttered with distaste and pushed her away, making Molly stumble and flop on the cot after she hit it with the back of her legs, "Jim died because Sherlock tried to beat him, if he did as told everything would have been alright."

Molly shook her head; she couldn't believe what he was saying. He obviously didn't know a single thing about Sherlock Holmes if he believed Sherlock would have just gave up without a fight, without trying to set things straight.

"You will kill him." Molly concluded.

"No." he answered and her head snapped up, "Death is easy. I'll make sure Jim's work is completed. Soon we will obtain knowledge that would destroy him and all those who helped him. That garbage Kitty Riley wrote will look like children's tales once his true secrets become public."

"What…?" Molly mumbled, not truly understanding.

She remembered the articles that destroyed Sherlock's reputation quite well. Stories provided by Rich Brook. There was just enough truth in them for the public to believe in all the lies that were written. But what else could they write about that wasn't written before.

The drugs? She didn't think that was that big of a deal. Sad truth was drugs weren't the worst things people did.

Helping Irene Adler? No, he saved a woman from being executed by a group of terrorists. Even though she was a dominatrix she was a person and no one would be outraged by his actions. She wasn't after he told her about it.

The killings of Moriarty's men while he destroyed the network during those two years away? That could be a problem. He traveled all across the globe, visited more countries then she has cafés. And if any of those men were in a high enough position, which wouldn't be much of a surprise, that could cause a problem. Especially since Mycroft probably wouldn't be able to cover it up without implicating himself as well.

"That was why I took out Magnussen before Sherlock could have." He suddenly said and Molly's eyes widened, "It wouldn't be fun otherwise."

"You were the sniper that…" Molly's voice trailed away as she realized, "You were the one hat fired at me in Baker Street."

"And wasn't it nice of me to give John Watson just enough time to tackle you before shooting?" he asked with a grin before grabbing Molly's arm and pulling her on her feet.

She tried to pull herself free but his grasp only tightened making her whimper in pain. He was strong, too strong.

Seconds later he was pulling her out of the small room and down the flight of old squeaky stairs and out in the driveway where a car waited. A car with an open trunk that faced the front door. Molly knew what was going to happen next. And she desperately tried to remember things Sherlock taught her. She needed to get attention to the car. She needed to break the taillight from inside the trunk.

But a sudden pain in her shoulder told her she wouldn't have that chance. The man removed the now empty syringe and threw it carelessly in the open trunk before he guided the drunk pathologist to it.

Her movements were heavy and unstable; she couldn't properly control her own body. And seconds after she got pushed in the trunk darkness surrounded her, even before the door closed.

Molly Hooper was once more rendered unconscious.

* * *

Because it's more convenient, and because he annoyed his brother until his request or rather a demand was granted, Sherlock moved into the safe house where John and Mary were living for the time being. Or rather just John, since Mary still hasn't been discharged from the hospital. But they were expecting her to be released the next day.

From time to time Sherlock wondered if this was a good idea, since a baby would be in the flat with them and everyone knows babies are noisy and he would need peace and quiet so he could visit his Mind palace and connect the right dots to find Molly.

She has been missing for 24 hours.

"Sherlock, do you want something to eat?" John called from the kitchen. On Mary's request he returned in the flat instead of staying with her in the hospital.

"I'm on a case, John. You know I don't eat when I'm on a case cause-"

"Digestion slows you down." John finished the sentence he knew so well, "I'm sure Molly will appreciate you starving yourself to find her."

Sherlock sighed, "Fine."

He got up from the couch and marched in the kitchen. John watched with amusement as the consulting detective acted like a child, taking two slices of bread and placing a single slice of ham in the middle before taking a big bite. And then almost choke on it.

"Dry, isn't it?" he asked with a grin and handed Sherlock a plate with two sandwiches that had butter, ham and tomato slices on the otherwise bland bread.

"Thank you, John." Sherlock mumbled before showing what's left of his self-made sandwich in his mouth and then chugging down half the glass of water.

John merely shook his head. For all his manners Sherlock sometimes acted like an animal.

It was at noon next day that Mary and the newest member of the Watson family arrived at the flat.

Little Grace Watson had few blond hairs on her head and wide blue eyes that observed the world around her with interest. Sherlock mentally commented she would be a smart one and he would make sure to teach her things no other kids will ever bother to learn. He would teach her how to observe and not just see.

Like it was expected from a good godfather Sherlock held the baby only to frown after she farted and fell asleep just seconds after Mary placed her in his arms. The Watson's thought it was amusing.

"If that is how she'll react every time you hold her you'll just have to move in with us until she is old enough and starts sleeping throughout the night." John joked and Mary hit him in the arm.

"Don't give him ideas." She whispered.

Sherlock of course heard her and grinned at the new mother, "Afraid she'll like me more then you?"

Mary snorted, "As if."

Grace was taken in her parent's bedroom and tucked in the small cot at the side of the bed when Sherlock's phone started to vibrate. On John's insistence he switched it so it wouldn't ring and wake up the infant.

"Lestrade? Do you have anything?" he asked right away.

The detective inspector wasn't even surprised by Sherlock not greeting him and getting straight to the point. The consulting detective wasn't known for his knowledge and use of social conventions.

"_Molly has been spotted. We have the address. She was seen arriving in the back of a car and was dragged inside."_

"Come and pick me up." Sherlock ordered. He was angry.

"_Was going to. Your presence will calm her down. Are you still at the same place?"_

"No." Sherlock answered and informed Greg where he was currently staying, not even bothering to check with the guard before doing so.

When he disconnected and looked at his friends he could see worry in their eyes but also hope.

It was Mary that spoke first, "John should go with you."

"What?" he husband asked.

"Molly might be hurt. You are a doctor." She pointed out what they all knew.

"I am quite certain Lestrade is smart enough to get the ambulance to the scene." John pointed out.

Mary sighed, "I know you don't want to leave me and Grace alone. I do, and I understand. But I can take care of us and I have protection too. Molly doesn't. And I'm certain she would feel more comfortable with you then with some stranger. And Sherlock too." John looked at his friend who just frowned, "He will refuse to leave her side and drive some poor paramedic insane by giving him instructions on how to best take care of Molly."

When they both looked at Sherlock he just shrugged. He wasn't going to even deny it. It was true. He trusted John Watson more then he trusted some kid that just started working and had no idea what he was doing.

* * *

When the three of them exited Lestrade's car they were greeted by several technicians in blue gathering evidence.

"They didn't wait for you?" Sherlock asked angrily.

"DI Dimmock lead the team in, I went to get you two." Lestrade answered just as his younger college walked through the front door.

"Where is she?" Sherlock right away asked and walked past the man to enter the house when the answer made him stop in his track.

"She's not here. The house is empty." Dimmock turned towards Sherlock, "The bedroom on the top floor was recently been used, there are disturbances in the dust and a palm print on the glass. The guys are already checking if it's the match to doctor Hooper."

"Then how do you even know that this is the right place?" John asked.

"Because while we didn't find who we were looking for we found something else. Or rather it was left for us to find."

The younger detective inspector lead them in the empty house, down the narrow hallway and into the large sitting room that took the entire back side of the house and had an amazing view of what once must have been an beautiful garden. Today it was overgrown by weed.

On the west wall, right over a lovely fireplace, were photographs.

It seemed like there were hundred different ones but some were copies of the same picture over and over again. The picture of Sherlock holding his best man speech, his glass held high and looking down to his left at something outside of the image.

"This is all you found?" Sherlock asked, "Nothing else?"

"What else could you possible need?" Lestrade asked back.

"Molly!" Sherlock shouted and several people around them stopped what they were doing and looked at him. He simply ignored them and continued to stare at Greg Lestrade.

"Sherlock. Mate. You aren't doing her any good by yelling at those who are trying to help."

"I know." He muttered before focusing back on Greg, "Sorry."

"Whoever is responsible seems to be one step ahead of us. And I don't like it." Lestrade said after few seconds of silence created by Sherlock's apology.

"How did you found out about this place?" Sherlock finally asked.

"Anonymous tip." Dimmock answered.

"Last time there was an anonymous tip it ended up being a distraction to kidnap Molly." John pointed out, "Think it's the same thing again?"

Sherlock froze and looked at John; his friend instantly knew what's on his mind, "Mary and Grace."

* * *

All thoughts about the safe house location needing to remain a secret flew out the window after John called his wife and she didn't answer. Lestrade right away ran to his car, with a worried consulting detective and an even more worried husband in tow. Several police cars followed suit, their lights flashing.

Sherlock was on the phone with his brother, informing Mycroft about the possible breach in the safe house, when the car stopped in front of a house and John ran outside before anyone else managed to react.

He ignored the pain in his chest as he tried to catch his breath and continued to run upstairs to the forth floor. Several pairs of footsteps could be heard following him.

"John!" he heard Lestrade calling him, the detective inspector didn't want an unarmed man bursting in the flat with a potential killer inside. And to be honest even if they were just being paranoid about the matter and there is nothing wrong in the safe house the guard is still there and he will very likely react is someone was to burst in.

So John slowed down the moment he reached forth floor, giving Lestrade and his men time to catch up with him. They were ready to enter when the faint sound of an infant crying was heard and it started to get louder and louder.

Lestrade reached for the door knob and pressed it, opening the door to the first area of the safe house. Seconds later Mary appeared, holding distressed Grace in her arms.

"They are both dead." She said, her voice shaking slightly.

Lestrade and few officers rushed past her, Sherlock right behind them. He paused long enough to check Mary from head to toe and see if she was in any way harmed. When she gave him a weak smile he nodded and walked inside leaving the Watson family alone.

Instantly John wrapped his arms around his wife and baby, taking deep breaths to calm down before he got a panic attack.

He had no idea how Sherlock did it. How he managed to remain calm despite the fact Molly missing. If it happened years ago he wouldn't guess it, simply concluded Sherlock doesn't care like normal humans do. But now he knows that's not true. Now he knows Sherlock Holmes is capable of loving.

"What happened?" they heard Greg asking from inside and entered the flat.

"I heard a thud, like something hard fell to the ground. I'm a nurse, I know the noise a body creates when crashing on the floor." two people in the room knew the knowledge didn't come from her nursing career but the one she had before but neither of them found it necessary to point that out, "Grace was sleeping so I took John's gun and went to check what happened. I suppose I got paranoid. When I came through the door to the first flat I noticed the guard on the floor, his throat was cut. The wound was clearly visible from where I was hiding. Then a man appeared from the bedroom. I know I should have just go back to the secured flat and he wouldn't be able to find me but I… I just…"

"You reacted." John finished for her.

"That was some reaction." Lestrade commented, "You got him right between the eyes. The fact that the gun you used isn't registered might be a problem."

"I'll get Mycroft to help with that." Sherlock said calmly. His brother knew about Mary's past, or at least he suspected from the little comments he made to Sherlock, and he didn't really care.

"Alright. I'll get the technicians to gather evidence. Hopefully figuring out where he was leads us to where Molly is."

* * *

**3 more chapters to go... before I start my next story. There is quite a queue of plots just waiting to be written.**


	15. Chapter 15: Unexpected

**The best part of a really detailed plot is I can write the chapter much faster then when I'm filling in the gaps while writing it. Thus, a new update much sooner then I expected.**

* * *

Sherlock didn't say a single word when Anderson walked in the safe house and approached the dead body of a man that broke in and killed the guard. Usually he would be commenting the man's lack of brain cells by now but today he refrained.

It was a sad truth that Anderson was actually most competent of all the technicians. A rather depressing thought.

But the man was hired again by New Scotland Yard and was back on crime scenes, so he was good enough for them.

And according to Lestrade he noticed certain cases that were solved while Sherlock was officially dead and started to suspect his death, going as far as starting a club with others who thought the same way. So not a complete idiot.

"How exactly did he knew where to go?" Mary asked walking through the hidden doors into the first flat where everyone gathered, "They are called safe houses for a reason. How did it end up being compromised?"

No one had a good answer and the question remained unanswered until Mycroft Holmes casually walked in, ignoring the officer that tried to ban him from entering.

"Perhaps we should go in the other part of the flat, too many people will contaminate the crime scene." He suggested calmly.

Anderson looked up and was about to agree when he froze in space. He looked rather comical to those who noticed his sudden lack of movements but had no idea what happened. It was only Sherlock who rolled his eyes.

Leave it to Mycroft to kidnap people left and right and bring them to abandoned warehouses to question them about him and possibly offer them money to keep him informed. Like he wasn't informed enough with all the cameras around London that he had on his disposal.

He made a mental note to ask Molly if Mycroft ever did the same thing with her.

Once they find her.

"Did you find something?" John asked before anyone else could as they all sat down in the sitting room of the hidden flat. All but Mary who moved to the kitchenette to make tea for everyone. She had a lot of energy for someone who gave birth only three days ago.

"Indeed we have." Mycroft responded.

"Then get on with it!" Sherlock snapped at his older brother, "What did you find?"

"The guard that was in charge of doctor Hooper's safety, the guard that was suspiciously missing from the scene of her kidnapping."

"I thought they killed him and tossed him in Thames." Lestrade mumbled.

"Honestly, George. There was no blood in the car, so no sigh he was shoot. And why go through all the trouble of hiding the body in the first place?" Sherlock started his usual tirade, "If they wanted to cover up their tracks they could have pushed the entire car in the river."

"My brother is absolutely right, George." Mycroft said with a nod and Lestrade sighed.

"Greg. My name is Greg."

"Oh, my apologies." The British Government looked perplexed for a moment before his usual mask of cool calmness returned, "I expected my brother to know the first name of a man he's been _friends_ with for several years now."

"Try not to look like a toad while saying 'friends', Mycroft." His younger brother taunted.

"Sherlock." John knew exactly which tone of voice to use as a warning on the consulting detective who sometimes forgets that his older brother isn't the enemy.

"Yes, right. My apologies. I sometimes forget that if how you always look."

"For God's sake, Sherlock." The retired army doctor mumbled.

"Can we get to the point?" Lestrade asked, "My name is Greg and you found something about the guard. Then what?"

"Actually we found the guard. I was about to explain that when I got interrupted." Mycroft started to speak when a cup of tea was placed in front of him, a cupcake on the plate next to it. He gave Mary a small smile before focusing back on what he was saying, "He was trying to flee the country. Obviously didn't think things though first because he was using his own passport."

Sherlock mumbled something about the government hiring idiots but was ignored. Instead Greg asked, "And he said something useful."

"Indeed he had. After he drove doctor Hooper almost to the hospital he parked the car and gave her an excuse he's waiting for the conformation from the security in the hospital that it's safe for them to precede. Of course that was a lie. Instead a man that contacted him previously and offered a rather generous amount for his assistance arrived in a car, drugged doctor Hooper and took her away to an unknown location."

"We know where she was kept. We found the house after an anonymous tip." Lestrade added the bit of information he wasn't sure if Mycroft knew.

"It seems that was all part of the plan. Because not only did he aided in doctor Hooper's kidnapping he also gave her kidnapper, whom I presume is the dead man in the flat in front, the name of the detective that picked up Sherlock from the safe house."

Lestrade looked surprised.

"How was that going to help?" John asked, noticing Sherlock was suspiciously quiet during his brother's explanation. The retired army doctor suspected he was trying mentally connect all the dots while Mycroft gave him more information to work with.

"Because they knew which car to track." Mycroft explained.

"What?!" Greg shouted, visibly upset.

"Who ever is behind this expected for Sherlock to move to the second safe house with the Watsons. And he did exactly that. That was when the anonymous tip came to play. You come pick up Sherlock at the safe house, naturally John goes along because he is a doctor, and that leaves Mrs. Watson alone with a newborn baby. The guard is there too, of course. But a skilled killer can easily overpower even the best guard."

"Only to be killed himself by a nurse." Lestrade said with a small grin to Mary's direction. He didn't notice the strange looks Sherlock, John and Mycroft exchanged when they silently decided to leave the detective inspector in the dark regarding Mary's past.

"Yes." Mycroft confirmed his statement with a barely noticeable smile before adding, "My PA is currently removing the GPS locator from your car."

"Your personal assistant is doing that?" Lestrade was confused.

"She is a woman of many talents." Sherlock almost choked on his tea after hearing his older brother saying that. Mycroft only sent him a glare.

The tense silence was interrupted when Anderson walked in with a fingerprint scanner that right away checked the databases for the identification. And he got a match.

"The dead man is Sebastian Moran, former army Colonel. Can't access his military file." He informed them.

"That's alright. I can." Mycroft took out his phone and typed in a message to Anthea. He knew she will have all the info they need on this Moran in just a few minutes.

"The name doesn't ring a bell." Sherlock said trying to remember if he already heard it before during those two years after the Fall when he was dismantling Moriarty's network.

"It does for me." Mary said with a frown and everyone turned towards her.

"Really?" Greg asked, completely baffled.

"He had a reputation as a freelancer after leaving the army. He would work for anyone willing to pay."

"And his specialty?" Sherlock asked.

"He's, or rather was, a sniper."

The Holmes brothers shared a look and Mycroft nodded. They both thought the same thing. He was the perfect candidate for becoming the prime suspect in the murder of Charles Augustus Magnussen. Too bad he was dead and couldn't reveal who hired him.

"Also I found something in his pocket." Anderson added in the aftermath.

"Why didn't you say anything sooner?!" Sherlock snapped at him, "What did you find?"

"It seems he was bit of a fan of yours." The technician answered and lifted a house key. The key itself would be of no use until they found the lock that it fit to, but the keychain that reflected the light of the lamps around the room made Sherlock jump on his feet and gram it out of Anderson's hand.

"Sherlock?" John asked, shocked by that reaction.

The consulting detective closed his eyes and took a deep breath, he knew exactly when he last saw someone holding a keychain just like that one but it made no sense. Besides there must be more of those out there. Still, any lead was a good lead.

"Janine Hawkins had the same keychain." He said, "She dangled it in front of me after informing me she spent money she received as a payment for those stories she sold on a cottage in Surrey. Said something about bee hives as well."

"There must be hundreds of those." Lestrade pointed out what everyone else thought.

"I know. But that's the best we have right now."

"I collected soil samples from the dead man's shoes to see if we could bet a location of where he last was." Anderson said, "But the analysis will take a while."

Sherlock grinned, "Anderson, that was the first time you did something remotely smart. You might actually become competent in your job."

No one really paid attention to Mycroft typing another message after he received one from Anthea in which she confirmed what Mary Watson already said. Moran was indeed a trained sniper. But when his cell phone dinged with the new message Sherlock instantly focused on him.

"There are two residences on Miss Hawkins name, a flat in London and indeed a cottage in Surrey. Anthea also informs me construction works were approved for the cottage and bee hives were removed from the garden." He looked at his brother, "Do you really think doctor Hooper is being held there?"

"We already investigated two locations that brought us no where."

Lestrade silently agreed before saying, "I'll get my men."

* * *

Sherlock was unbearable during the hour long drive from London to Surrey. To those in the car with him, in this case those were Greg and John, the drive felt like five hours long.

But once the cars stopped on the driveway in front of a lovely cottage Sherlock jumped out and rant to the front door. As expected it was locked.

He turned towards Lestrade, about to shout at the man to hurry up, when the detective inspector showed up on his side and pushed the key he took out of the evidence bag into the lock.

The silence was heavy in those few moments when they waited to see what would happen. And than the lock made a distinctive *click* that signaled the door was now unlocked.

Sherlock ignored any and all safety regulations as he charged in the empty cottage, looking in one room after another and not finding what he was looking for, until he came across a door he couldn't unlock.

"Lestrade!" he shouted, "I'm breaking in!"

Not bothering to listed to the detective inspector who told him to wait he slammed in the wooden door with his upper arm and shoulder and the weak lock gave loose. The door slammed open, hitting the wall with the knob and bouncing back slightly, but Sherlock didn't noticed any of that.

His entire focus was solemnly on the woman lying on a mattress on the floor.

"Sherlock?" John called him as he approached and saw his friend rush in the room. That was all he needed, "Lestrade, he found her!"

Moments later Greg Lestrade was delegating his men to secure the perimeter; they needed to keep everything intact for the technicians. Sally Donovan approached him seconds later.

"Paramedics are on their way."

He nodded a thanks before going down the hallway towards the room in which Sherlock and John disappeared in. The room Molly was being kept in. He was extremely grateful Sherlock's suspicion was investigated, despite how crazy it sounded.

Cause frankly, the last person he would have suspected to be in any way involved in this mess is Mary Watson's maid of honor.

He found Sherlock kneeling on the dirty floor, helping Molly to remain seated, as John assisted her in drinking from the small bottle of water the doctor grabbed and stuffed in his pocket before they left the safe house.

Molly started to cough a bit and John pulled the bottle back.

After calking down and taking few deeper breaths she managed to mumble, "He said they are after the knowledge. The knowledge that would destroy those responsible."

Her voice was rough from not being used and the lack of water but she relayed everything she wanted before finally succumbing to unconsciousness.

"How bad is she?" the detective inspector asked.

John turned and looked at Lestrade, "The cottage is being renovated to the water in ensuite is dirty."

"I need to call Mycroft." Sherlock suddenly said.

John frowned, "Why?"

"Because I know where the knowledge Janine is looking for is. Or rather isn't."

John's eyes widened. He understood.

* * *

Mycroft was in the helicopter just minutes after receiving the call from his brother flying in the direction of Appledore, Charles Augustus Magnussen's estate that was just today released by the police. Until today it was considered a crime scene and no one was allowed access to it.

In the house he found what he was looking for. But only he did. Miss Janine Hawkins was standing frozen like a statue, her arms still spread wide after opening the double doors that lead to a windowless room with a single chair inside it.

She made the same mistake Sherlock did, believed she found the entrance that led to Appledore vaults.

Not knowing the vaults that only existed in a dead man's mind.

* * *

Molly looked so small in the hospital bed in Saint Bartholomew hospital. It was on Sherlock's insistence that she was taken there, he believed she would prefer to be closer to people she called her friends. And indeed she did.

She smiled every time a familiar face peeked in to check up on her and wish her a speedy recovery. Mike Stamford came in and brought a vase of lilies from everyone at the pathology department. Sherlock thought that was too morbid, even for Molly, until they explained it was a running joke among them. Every time one of them ended up in a hospital, for any reason, he or she would receive lilies.

A chatty nurse named Meena came too. Sherlock didn't really like her. Eventually he suggested she should go and see a doctor for that unhinged bottom jaw that doesn't seem to be able to close. A insulted huff from Meena and a punch to his arm from Molly later the annoying nurse left.

"Your friends as almost as bad as John's." he commented.

Molly smiled at him before commenting casually, "You know, it was Meena's cousin that introduced me to Tom."

"I like her even less now." Sherlock mumbled just like she expected him and Molly started to laugh.

She already felt better and couldn't wait to return home. Or to Baker Street.

When another knock sounded on the door Sherlock almost growled at the person to leave Molly alone to rest when his brother walked in.

"Mycroft." Molly called his name with a smile, "How are you?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes, "You are the one who is in the hospital, Molly. He supposed to ask you that."

"Honestly Sherlock…" Mycroft said with a sigh.

"And you didn't even bring flowers." The younger Holmes pointed out, "What would mummy think?"

At this point Mycroft did blush a bit, suddenly remembering the social norms his mommy taught him. Among them was 'always bring something when visiting a person in a hospital'. Well, technically he did bring something.

"No flowers, I'm afraid. But I do have information." Sherlock instantly forgot everything about taunting his older sibling, "I ordered a bit more thorough search into Miss Janine Hawkins' background."

"Wait…" Molly mumbled, "Janine… as in Mary's maid of honor? The woman Sherlock proposed to to get in Magnussen's office?"

"Yes." Mycroft confirmed, "Although she wasn't always known by that name. When she was eighteen she legally changed it with a deed poll."

"And who was she before?" Molly asked.

"And how exactly is that connected to Moriarty and his return message?" Sherlock added. He realized a while ago the broadcast was meant to serve as a distraction.

"Ah, yes. Moriarty. Coincidentally, before the name change Miss Hawkins was known as Janine Brook, daughter of Julia and Robert Brook, and a sister of one James Brook."

Sherlock squeezed Molly's hand harder after she gasped but didn't take his eyes off his brother, "Coincidentally… We both know the universe is rarely so lazy."


	16. Chapter 16: End of a story

**I don't know how this happened but I managed to write the final, albeit much shorted chapters, and complete the story. **

* * *

Lestrade was beginning to get frustrated with Miss Janine Hawkins. From the moment he walked in the interrogation room he felt like banging his head into the wall. It was possible the wall would move before the woman in front of him slipped and incriminated herself.

She was smart.

But then again she turned out to be sister of the man that played them all, the man that seemingly broke into three secure facilities at the same time, when he simply had men on the inside.

He remembered her from the wedding, the woman in the long purple dress.

If someone told him back then she was Jim Moriarty's sister he would have laughed in their faces.

"I still don't understand why I'm being held here and questioned." She said calmly.

Greg sighed, "Because we have a reason to believe you were involved in the recent broadcasting of a message that announced Jim Moriarty's return as well as several other crimes."

"I'm a personal assistant, not a criminal mastermind."

"Yes, it was your brother who earned himself that title, didn't he?" the detective inspector asked casually.

"I haven't seen James since I left home over a decade ago. I couldn't stand living there anymore, I had to leave."

"And then you changed your name." Greg added.

Janine nodded, "My parents are farmers; that is not the life I wanted. But they were persistent that I stay and marry some uneducated fool and give birth so there would be more people taking care of a farm that wasn't worth anything. I changed my name so they would have a harder time tracking me down. I suppose they gave up by now since no one from my old life ever contacted me."

"Tell me about your cottage in Surrey." Lestrade suddenly changed the subject.

"I bought it few months ago, was only there once right after the purchase. It didn't look anything like it did in the ad. It's still under constructions and the works are going really slow cause I'm almost out of money I got from selling few stories. Did you read them, inspector?" she suddenly asked with a small smile, "They were quite nice, weren't they?"

"And quite fictional." Lestrade deadpanned, "I would have possibly believed in them if I haven't witnessed a certain event in Barts morgue."

"Ah, the work place of Sherl's little doctor. She's a rather odd one, isn't she?"

"When was the last time you were at your cottage?" Greg got back to the subject.

"Like I said already, just after buying it. I saw it wasn't as perfect as I first believed and that it needed some work done. Not once was I there since."

Lestrade nodded and took out a photo out of a file in front of him before pushing it towards the calm looking brunette, "Do you know this man?"

Janine looked down on the photograph and frowned, "No. Why?"

"He was found in a possession of the house key. This house key, to be more precise." Lestrade took out a small evidence bag from the file where the picture was and placed it on the table between them. The deer stalker keychain was still attached to it.

"Alright. Why are you questioning me about it? Shouldn't you be talking to him?"

"This key unlocks your cottage." Greg's voice was calm, "Are you still certain you never saw this man before?"

"No, never. How did he get the copy of my key?"

"A copy?" the DI asked.

Janine huffed, "Obviously. My keys are still in my possession. And I don't have that awful keychain anymore. I tossed it away months ago. It was a mistake on my part to get him in the first place anyway."

"I see." Greg had a feeling two men behind the double mirror were as displeased as he was, "Only one little thing. What were you doing on the property known as Appledore?"

"Making sure everything was still there, of course!" Janine looked upset at the question, "I was Mr. Magnussen's personal assistant and for some reason known only to him he left me n charge of settling his affairs in case of his death. I was in Appledore to make sure noting was missing after the police completed their investigation and released it again. The estate will be sold together as Mr. Magnussen's newspaper empire."

* * *

In the small observation room behind the mirror a permanent frown was marring Sherlock's face. Both he and Mycroft were present during the interview and neither of them was pleased with how things turned out.

The British government wished he could have conducted the interview himself but Sherlock insisted Lestrade did it himself. Mycroft huffed, attracting his brother's attention, but Sherlock didn't comment on it.

Yes, it was by the books this way but Mycroft Holmes wasn't a man that played by the rules.

He firmly believed detective inspector Lestrade should have been more persistent with his questions even if that would mean Miss. Hawkins would lawyer up.

At least that would mean they were getting to her and she felt the need to shield herself.

Anything was better then nothing.

* * *

An hour later the three men found themselves behind the closed doors of Greg Lestrade's office.

Mycroft noticed the photograph of the detective, his brother, doctor and Mrs. Watson and Molly Hooper on the wall but didn't comment on it. For the long time he believed sentiment wouldn't do Sherlock any good. But after everything that happened in the past several years made him doubt his initial assessment. A man as proud as Mycroft Holmes had a hard time admitting his mistake but it was a mistake nevertheless.

Ever since he found friends his life has become so much better.

_Friends_. Who knew?

"I can't charge her with anything." Greg said with a sigh, "She had a prepared answer for all questions and I don't have a shred of evidence against her."

"Yes. That is unfortunate." Mycroft agreed with a nod, "Miss. Hawkins was indeed prepared in case something went wrong with the plan. No way to tie her with anything and the only person who could possibly know anything is dead, courtesy of Mrs. Watson."

"Now what?" Sherlock asked.

"I have to let her go. I have no grounds to keep her in custody." Greg wasn't happy having to admit such a thing.

"Mycroft? Anything?" Sherlock looked at his older brother.

"I am sorry Sherlock. Even my hands are tied." Mycroft admitted, "Everything against Janine Hawkins is merely circumstantial evidence."

* * *

John and Mary picked Molly up from the hospital and drove her to Baker Street where Mrs. Hudson was waiting with a delicious dinner in the oven and hot tea on the table. Ten minutes later Sherlock and Greg joined them in the sitting room of 221B, with little Grace contently napping on the large bed in Sherlock's room.

Sherlock wished he could bring happier news to his partner but Molly merely nodded in understanding as he explained they got nothing and can't prove Moran didn't act alone. He might used a plural when describing the plan behind the kidnapping but they only had her word as proof.

"Moriarty's body was never recovered. And there was no blood on the roof either. It was all cleaned. No way of getting his DNA." Molly said, wrapping a blanket tighter around herself, as she snuggled on the couch.

"He was arrested and put to trial." Mary pointed out, "His name should have been in the system. Why do you need his DNA anyway?"

"To prove Janine is in fact his sister. Then we could do something; build at least a shaky case against her. Claim she was angry for her brother's death and wanted revenge. Now we only have speculations." Sherlock answered, "I suppose she never mentioned she had a brother to you?"

Mary shook her head, "No. She never mentioned her family. In fact that was our common ground. We were both all alone in London."

"I checked the database." Greg placed his teacup back on the table, "After he was found not guilty Moriarty requested to have his DNA removed from the system. He had the legal right to do so."

"According to Mycroft the Brook family farm burned down years ago. All photographs were destroyed in the fire. So nothing from that either." Sherlock added as an aftermath.

"So she walks free." John concluded, "A sniper almost killed Molly, then kidnapped her and then went after Mary and Grace and we can't prove it was Janine who was behind it all. What about her breaking in Appledore?"

"She was the executive of Magnussen's estate." Sherlock revealed, "I believe he knew who she was from the beginning."

"What do we do now?" Molly asked, her voice shaking a bit.

Sherlock, who was sitting next to her on the couch instead in his favorite armchair where Mary currently sat, pulled Molly closed until her head rested on his shoulder and softly kissed her head.

He made a silent promise to keep her safe before saying, "Now we hope we don't have a new Moriarty on our hands."


	17. Chapter 17: Epilogue

Mrs. Hudson just closed the front door of 221B Baker Street when the knock on the wood startled her. Quickly opening it again she realized it was a mailman that was making a delivery.

This time it was a single letter, addressed to Sherlock Holmes.

She took it and closed the door again before sighing and placing her Tesco bag on the sideboard in the hallway before going upstairs to the upper flat to deliver the mail.

The soft sounds of the violin made her smile. Her sweet boy revealed it was a composition he wrote for Molly when he asked him about it, after listening him playing it over and over again. He had changed so much.

She wasn't surprised to see the good doctor was also present in the sitting room, sitting on the couch and reading a think book, her glasses low on her nose. She looked rather charming with them.

"This arrived for you just now, Sherlock." She said, hating to interrupt his playing, but she needed to hand the letter over and head back down to sort out her groceries and start working on the honey cake she wanted to bake.

"Thank you Mrs. Hudson." Sherlock said, lowering the bow and his violin on the stand, and moving to take the white envelope from his landlady's hand.

"Fan mail perhaps?" she asked with a small smile.

Sherlock rolled his eyes, "I certainly hope not. Those people are tedious."

"Maybe a case then." The older woman said before turning away and leaving he flat.

Sherlock watched the woman who was like a mother to him go down the stairs before turning towards his Molly, who now watched him closely. He smiled and sat down next to her.

"Aren't you going to open that?" she asked.

"In a minute." He answered before placing a soft kiss on her lips, "Or two."

Ten minutes later Sherlock did indeed open the letter he received and in it he found a single white paper. What said on it was not something he expected.

"_Dear Sherlock, you no longer need to worry about the safety of 'your' Molly. Moriarty isn't coming back. You were right. I was after the information Magnussen possessed but there aren't any. Not anymore. It was all in his head, wasn't it? I always wondered. But now the opportunity is gone and so will I. There is no reason for me to remain in London anymore. I won't be repeating my brother's mistake. You will never see or hear from me again._

_J.B.H."_

"It's really over." Molly mumbled.

Sherlock kissed her cheek and nodded with a smile. It was over. And then a thought entered his mind.

"Now, about that proposal you never gave me your answer for…"

* * *

**That's all folks! Thank you all for reading and reviewing!**


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